


Aura

by LindsayIsTheCraic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Past Child Abuse, Psychology, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Triggers, Violence, i had to stop for school and shit but always planned to finish it, i promise it gets better !, i started this story like 1&1/2 years ago, i will post trigger warnings when necessary, please let me know if there are any i need to add!, so now i can continue it, so you just gotta tough it out on my lame writing/grammar for the first two? chapters, the writing/wording may be different after the first few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9193682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindsayIsTheCraic/pseuds/LindsayIsTheCraic
Summary: "And yours..."His voice was barely audible to me. All I could hear was my heart beating too fast in my chest. "M-Mine?"He gave me a small smile, but his eyes were distant. They stared into mine. I felt violated, as if he were reading me like an open book. I felt exposed."Yours is red," he finally said."Red?""Red," he confirmed.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm not sure if this should be rated mature (let me know!) or not but here's a warning beforehand: this story will contain strong language and violence. It will also contain things some of you may find triggering. This includes self-harm, blood, violence, and more.
> 
> I want you to take this into consideration when choosing to read my story. I want you to enjoy it, not feel triggered by it. I will try my best to place a warning before every chapter if I feel one is needed.
> 
> Thank you! I hope you enjoy the story. If you do, please leave kudos, comment, and share!
> 
> All the love,
> 
> Lindsay :)

Amador Mental Hospital.

On the outside it looks like a welcoming place. Flowers flourish all around the newly painted front entrance. The grass is cut every day. The walls are painted a creme color to give people a homey feeling.

That's hardly the case.

Amador is the exact opposite. Every wall is blank cement, lacking any feeling of home. Silence fills the halls except for an occasional scream. Patients' eyes are dull, not full of light or hope.

Patients sent to Amador Mental Hospital are diagnosed to never recover from their illness. They range from the girl who feels pleasure when she burns her fingers to the boy who believes bloodshed brings happy endings.

The reality behind the creme colored walls is horrifying. The secrets lurking in the blank cement walls are revolting. It's Hell disguised as Heaven.

Welcome to Amador Mental Hospital. We hope you enjoy your stay.


	2. Chapter 1

"Amador Mental Hospital."

The smell of freshly cut grass was mixed with the overwhelming scent of dozens of flowers. The creme color of the building radiated welcoming vibes.

I looked down to the pamphlet in my hands. It was for the mental institution that stood before me.

Rumors surrounded this place, making it one of Amador's favorite night time spooky places. Kids were chased away regularly by guards.

Rumors spread that patients inside were actually mentally stable and just kept there for experimenting. Of course, that wasn't true.

But there were more rumors. One was that a patient killed another because he used a fork. The patient was deathly afraid of forks because his father use to stab him with them if his dinner table manners weren't adequate.

Another one was that a psychologist working in Amador would falsely prescribe medication to patients purposely to cause havoc and even kill them.

New rumors spring up every year, especially around fall. Fall is when most new patients are transported to Amador Mental Hospital. Those who are sent to Amador are said to never recover from their mental illness.

What was I doing here then? I'm attending Amador University in the graduate program for becoming a clinical psychologist. I need work experience and I also have a case study class. I was going to work under Dr. Roy.

He was one of the four psychologists that work in Amador. He was the first I contacted about an internship and shadowing him. He agreed and today was my first day.

I swept my hair over my shoulder, putting the pamphlet in my back pocket. I wasn't going to lie, I was nervous. From all the rumors, I didn't know what to expect when I walked inside.

The outside gave a warm feeling but I still had a chill that crawled over my skin. It intensified when my hands landed on the cool handle of the door. The wind whistled in my ears, the sound of my pounding heart pulsing through my ears.

I yanked the door open, a rush of warm air blowing past me. It was silent beside the soft play of the radio. A regular hospital lobby was present.

A receptionist sat a desk with millions of files behind her. Waiting chairs lined the walls, but they were all empty. There two three sets of swinging double doors. One of the left and one on the right. The other was off to the right of the desk area.

I walked up to the girl sitting and she looked up to me asking, "May I help you?"

"I'm here for a meeting with Dr. Roy. I start my internship today."

She nodded and hit a button on a phone station and we waited in silence. She went back to filling out papers. I rocked back and forth on my heels looking around.

There was no noise beside the soft play of the radio. No screams, shouts, or disruptive noise. Maybe it wasn't that bad.

"I know what you're thinking and I'll be the first to tell you that you're wrong."

My head shot back to the lady at the desk. I raised an eyebrow at her. "Excuse me?"

She finished writing her sentence before speaking again, "I know what you're thinking. You don't hear anything so you think it's not bad."

My heart thudded against my chest again, the chill making its way up my spine. I asked, "And why are you saying that? Is it bad?"

She didn't look up again as she spoke. "Yes. These walls for this room were made soundproof for a reason. We don't want to scare off guests and possibly new employees."

"Isn't that false advertisement?"

"Probably; but, we always give a warning before anyone goes beyond this room." My palms were sweating from her words. "Since you said you were going to working here, I figured I warn you now rather than letting Dr. Roy doing it himself."

I nodded as the red light flashed on the phone station. She clicked a button and said, "Dr. Roy is ready for you. I'll get Mike to come and escort you."

I felt my heart pound faster. "For protection or directions?"

She had stopped in mid sentence on her paper. She was silent and looked up to me finally. The sad look in her eyes made my heart miss a beat. "Hopefully, just for directions."

I felt the color drain from my face as the double doors besides the desk swung open. A tall, well built man in a cop uniform emerged.

He had his hands on his belt and his eyes landed on me. "Follow me."

I looked at the girl once more and then walked over to him.

As we made our way down the hall I examined everything. The walls were blank cement. They didn't give the same vibe the outer walls did. There was no smell of fresh flowers or grass.  
There were regular doors with small labels on them varying from supplies closets, offices, and unlabeled rooms. Mike said over his shoulder, "This is the general hall. Most patients only ever come down here for appointments with their doctor. Otherwise they stay in the cell sections of the hospital."

I nodded, my worry easing slightly. My heart still pounded in my chest as we walked further and further from the safe haven of the entrance. We were getting closer to a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. I feared that patients were waiting behind them.

However, we stopped at another door before we reached them. I stared at them, feeling the uneasy feeling creeping its way back into my system. I hadn't noticed Mike had opened the door until I heard a voice say, "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

I swear my heart stopped there. There was a patient there, probably less than twenty feet from me. I slowly turned my head to see a male with a head full of messy hair standing up.

I quickly checked his feet and hands. No shackles or cuffs. He wasn't dangerous then. He was dressed in a plain white jumpsuit and regular black tennis shoes.

As he stood he spoke in a hoarse voice, "Make sure you're not so silver next time. Doesn't make for good conversation, Dr. Roy."

My eyes traveled to the man sitting behind the desk, presumed to be Dr. Roy. He gave the man a small smile and said, "I'll try my best."

Mike grabbed the man by the arm and started to escort him out. His eyes were trained on the floor but suddenly snapped up to me.

We made eye contact and I felt my heart skip a beat in fear. His eyes were distant and looked faded. It felt as if his gaze was tearing me apart and examining everything down to my inner core. It sent a shiver up my spine.

His eyes traveled down as he examined me from head to toe. He was guided past me but he swiveled his head around to watch me before he disappeared through the double doors.

I swallowed trying to get the dry lump out of my throat. Fear creeped over my skin where his eyes had traveled. I absentmindedly scratched my arm feeling the need to get rid of his eyes on my skin.

Dr. Roy ripped me away from my thoughts by speaking. "Ah, you must be Harry. Come in and have a seat."

I looked over to him, nodding, and walked in. I slowly shut the door behind me and took a seat in the chair the patient was in no more than five minutes ago.

I pulled out my notebook out of my bag and set it on his desk. He grabbed it and opened it while examining it. "So what's your first impression?"

"Huh?"

"Of this place. You just ran into one of our patients. What's your first impression?"

I certainly didn't expect that question to be asked already. I thought over my word choice carefully. I shrugged finally, "Can't say, I mean, I haven't experienced a full day here yet. I haven't seen everything and seen the patients interacting with anything."

He read the document papers on me working here and signed them nodding. "Good answer."

He finished signing off on them and handed the folder back to me. He turned to his computer and started typing. "So today will be a general tour day for you. I'll show you the facilities and introduce you to staff. Easy first day."

I nodded as he typed away on the computer saying, "Sorry, I'm finishing up today's notes on my last patient."

"It's alright."

"I also saw in your case study class you have a report to write up about your work experience, correct?" I nodded. "Well, I was thinking of assigning you to a patient where you'd observe them daily."

My heart skipped a beat at the part mentioned of staying with a patient all day. I just nodded anyways. "Of course," he said. "You'd be with a patient that is nonviolent and safe."

I internally sighed in relief. He continued as he typed away, "You'd take observation notes like you'd do in an appointment. Write down the events of the day, the patient's activity, moods, and anything else you find important for records."

I nodded and asked, "Would I be there with them the whole day or would I spend it with you at all?"

He finished on the computer and turned in his chair towards me. He said, "You'd spend mornings with me to observe different patient appointments. We go all the way to lunch and that's when you'd split off and go with your patient. You'd stay with them the reminder of the day unless I needed your help."

I nodded and he added, "Your paper for your case study class can be a report on the patient you observe and working with them. This way gives you shadowing with me and working with a patient gives you hands on experience. A guard will always be present in every section of the hospital, so don't worry about your safety. You'll be fine."

I nodded and said, "I understand and I appreciate you allowing me to come in and work with you. I truly do appreciate it."

He smiled and said, "Its my pleasure. We usually don't get these requests so we're glad to have you here with us."

I smiled and asked, "So what patient would I be assigned to?"

He turned behind him and grabbed a folder from the shelf. He turned back to me and handed it to me. I grabbed it and looked down opening it up.

My eyes wandered the page till they found the name slot.

"Louis Tomlinson."


	3. Chapter 2

"Louis Tomlinson."

Background information, physical appearance information, family history, likes and dislikes. Pages beyond pages were filled out about the man I was going to observe. My eyes skimmed the first page of general information, settling on a head shot of him.

I felt my heart skip another beat. The guy staring at the camera in the picture was the same guy who was just in the room. His eyes felt the same as in person. It felt as if they were piercing through the photo and into my soul again.

Those blue-green eyes seemed distant yet piercing at the same time.

"Something wrong?"

I looked up, snapping out of my thoughts. Dr. Roy was looking at me. I looked down to Louis' photo again and said, "No, I just recognized him as the man from before."

"Ah, yes. I would've had him stay to meet you but I figured you'd feel a bit intimidated if he was in here right at the beginning."

I nodding in understanding as I kept my eyes on the photo. More importantly his eyes. They seemed to catch your gaze and then trap you there. Like a predator on the hunt for its prey. "What's wrong with him?" I asked.

My finger traced his photo and his name. Louis William Tomlinson. 5'9" with blue-green eyes. Messy brown hair swooshed over into an unkempt fringe. A slight scruff added an edge to his image.

I realized that Dr. Roy hadn't answered me and looked up. I felt my hands go cold at his hard gaze. I swallowed hard as he spoke sternly, "We do not to like refer to the patients as abnormal."

That caught me off guard. "But, sir, technically, that is the correct term for some of them."

He shook his head curtly. "No, we refer to them as normal."

Silence grew after that intensely. I felt awkward and looked around his office nervously. _You better have not screwed up your internship twenty minutes into it,_ my mind screamed at me.

He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, setting them on the desk. He caught my gaze and it felt more soul ripping than Louis'. He told me, "The reason we refer to them as normal is because if we called them abnormal to them, then what would they think? Self confidence in recovery is key."

I felt myself relax again as he leaned back, the hard gaze absent from his face. He typed away on his computer for a minute and said, "Sorry for the tension there. One of my pet peeves, if you will."

I just nodded, feeling the tension lift from the room easily. He clicked away a few time on his computer, spinning towards me with a big smile on his face. "Ready for that tour?"

+

So far I've learned that the door on the left of the entrance building was where all employees entered. There you put your personal belongings and check in/check out of work. Another door from that room lead you down a hallway for security rooms and lead to the kitchen area. The door on the right of the entrance was where all the 'fun' was.

It lead you down a blank hallway with nothing but a few ceiling lights, giving it an eerie glow. Dr. Roy said it was to separate the patients from the front entrance so noise couldn't travel. The door on the end led to a small room. Three doors were labeled with 'A', 'B', and 'C'.

A stood for nonviolent and safe patients, B for patients that are bipolar with their behavior, and C stood for patients who were violent and deemed unsafe. I was told only certain personnel was allowed back there and that there was always maximum security there.

He lead me through the A cell section and showed me a cell. They weren't metal bars like prison but like a sectioned off room with a bed, shelf of personal items, a toilet, and a sink. Cameras lined the walls in each cell so nothing was out of view. Each cell was locked with a key on the outside.

Each cell section connected to a large room where rows of long tables were placed. All the tables were securely fastened to the ground with benches connected to them for sitting. Security lined the walls almost blending into the wall, adding another color other than white. This was the cafeteria and visiting place. The kitchen windows were open and patients were moving along and getting food. The different cell sections ate separately but section C patients had food delivered to their cells.

He also told me the set of double doors in the hall where the offices and supply closets were connected to the cafeteria.

Another big set of double doors connected to the cafeteria lead to a hallway where more doors lead to classrooms. Simple education was taught to keep the mind going, art was a main activity, group meetings, and other small activities.

There was one more door at the very end of the hallway that stood out against the rest. It wasn't a regular wood door or cell door for the patients. It was a bright silver, standing out. It was made of steel. A sign read on it 'AUTHORIZED STAFF ONLY'. A scanner was on the door handle this time, no key lock. A certain badge was needed to gain access. Dr. Roy said medicines and important files were back there that he didn't want anyone but him or anyone he asked to get.

"So how do you feel about Amador now?" He had asked me after the tour was done. We ended up back at the cafeteria, sitting at one of the empty tables. Section A patients were eating lunch right now.

I took a sip of my water and said, "I feel a lot better knowing it more and getting a chance to look around."

He smiled stirring his coffee. "I'm glad to hear that. I really appreciate you coming to work under me. It's nice to know people as young as you want to," his voice got lower, "help others."

I slowly looked around the room to see if anyone had heard. All the patients were either zoned out, talking to other patients, or eating their food. I looked back to him saying, "It's me who should be thanking you. I'm really glad I was given this opportunity, so, thank you."

He smiled more and said, "It was my pleasure, don't worry about it."

We sat in silence as he observed the patients in the cafeteria. I set Louis' file on the table and flipped it open to the same page as before. I felt the pierce of his gaze as soon as my eyes landed on his picture. My eyes scanned over the information again.

Louis William Tomlinson. 5'9" with blue-green eyes. Messy brown hair swooshed over into an unkempt fringe with slight scruff.

I just realized that Dr. Roy had not told me what Louis' case was when I had asked him. I searched the page for my answer as I heard Dr. Roy 'ah' and stand up. I didn't bother looking up and kept searching for my answer.

My eyes scanned the page as Dr. Roy talked to whoever had come over. My eyes finally fell on a section of the page labeled, "Reason for being instituted".

My shoulder was tapped but I quickly read over the words, "Claims to see auras and know what one is feeling/doing from them".

I felt my heart skip a beat another time today. Those eyes; the gaze I felt when we made eye contact in the room. It had felt as if he were reading me and all my darkest secrets.

He really was reading me, according to the data and what Louis claimed.

"Harry? I'd like you meet the patient you will be observing," came Dr. Roy's voice.

I barely heard from the rush of blood to my head. I was all nervous and jittery again like I had been at the beginning. I tried to force myself to calm down as I turned around.

My eyes were glued to the floor where I saw black tennis shoes sticking out like a sore thumb on the white flooring. "Harry, this is Louis Tomlinson."

My eyes slowly traveled up the man standing before me. His hands weren't bound as they were stuffed into the jumpsuit's pockets. My heart beat faster every inch my eyes moved up till they landed on his face.

My eyes locked with the piercing gaze of his blue-green eyes.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mention of drugs/alcohol, house fire, drunk driver deaths, plane crashes, murder, suicide

This is it, this was him. This was the man I would be observing. 

His eyes pierced mine still, like a predator keeping its prey in its clutch. I felt like I couldn't escape. They were empty, his eyes; no emotion or feeling evident. It felt as if he were looking right through me and into my soul at the same time.

Dr. Roy broke the silence by introducing us. "Louis, this is Harry Styles. He will be your buddy for the next few weeks. He's just here for a college class and for work experience. He'll be observing you, okay?"

Louis didn't answer. I don't know how I felt about the term buddy either. Dr. Roy chuckled a little and patted him on the back; he didn't flinch or move. "Why don't you sit down so you can get to know each other a little bit?" Dr. Roy suggested.

The thought immediately sent my heart racing again. Louis eyes narrowed the slightest bit at me. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I turned back in my seat reaching for my water, breaking eye contact. I felt his burning on the back of my head.

Dr. Roy and the guard led him to where Dr. Roy originally sat and sat him down. I peaked over my water and saw him still staring at me. Dr. Roy patted his shoulders and said, "Now you behave yourself, okay Louis?"

Once again, Louis didn't answer. His eyes stayed trained on me while I flickered mine up to Dr. Roy. He gave Louis one more pat on the shoulders and left with guard.

+

Silence.

We've been sitting in silence for about five minutes. I did say hi to him but he didn't say anything back. All he kept doing was staring at me. 

My skin was crawling, feeling his eyes everywhere. I wanted to put him in a blindfold so I could get rid of the feeling but I feel he could probably see through that. No matter what, he would still stare.

I sighed, loudly. I looked to him again, seeing no response. I ran my hand through my hair, sensing his eyes following the movement.

"Alright," I stated. "I know you probably don't want to open up to me or anything, but we can be on professional grounds. All I need to know is what you're seeing, feeling, doing, and your reactions. I can't do that if all you do is stare at me."

He didn't say anything. Frustrated, I sighed. "Listen, if you don't want to corporate, I can gladly ask Dr. Roy for someone else. I know you don't care for my school or me but I would-"

"Did I ever say that?"

I froze. I looked up to him, the words dying on my lips. His gaze seemed harder. He had finally spoken. "Say what?"

"What you just accused me of feeling."

"I didn't accuse-"

"Yes you did," he told me. His tone was final. His voice was soft but had an edge added to it; making it slightly raspy. "You accused me of not caring about your work or yourself, but I never said anything. Just because you read my file, you think you know everything about me?"

My mouth dropped open in shock. I wasn't expecting that reaction. I quickly recovered my tracks telling him, "No, no, no. That came out wrong. It's just what I thought since you weren't answering me."

"You don't have the degree to make such accusations yet," he slammed at me.

I frowned. "Well," I said. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to make you upset or falsely accuse you."

He didn't say anything this time, just returned to staring me down. I looked back down at my empty notepad and his folder. I tapped the pen I had on the desk. Biting my lip, I looked up to see him staring again.

Finally I asked, "Is it true? That you can see auras?"

I was answered with silence. Good going Harry, you get the chance for hands-on experience and you screw it up by opening your big mouth. My tapping of the pen increased but his eyes stayed focused on me.

"Behind you. The guy staring at his food like it's going to move off its plate."

My eyes shot up to meet his. For once they weren't looking directly at me, but beyond me. I slowly followed my eyes to the man sitting alone at a table with a tray of mashed potatoes and cut up steak. He was putting pieces of the steak up to his mouth but hesitating.

I looked back to Louis whose eyes were once again on me. "What about that guy?"

He told me, "His aura is wavering, it always is when he's around people." I started writing it down and I could feel his eyes follow my hand's movement across the pad. "A wavering aura indicates nervousness. His aura is also indigo."

"Indigo?" I looked up to the guy who was now accompanied by another psychologist here. He was smiling and talking to him in a low voice. I looked back to Louis, his eyes watching me.

He nodded. "Indigo can mean multiple things. For him however, it represents his sensitivity."

"Sensitivity?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "That's Ralph. He went through multiple foster homes. He's been taken away from every foster family he's been with."

I frowned. "That's terrible."

He let out a humorless chuckle, causing me in response to rise a skeptical eyebrow. "He wasn't taken away from each home because the family didn't want him or because he was a bad kid. He was put back into foster care because every family he was with was killed."

I dropped my pen. It slowly rolled across the table over to him. He didn't spare it a glance, he was watching me still. I felt my heart drop. I broke our eye contact and stared off into the wall behind him. He let out another humorless chuckle. "If this how you feel about it, just imagine how he felt."

"How many times?"

I made eye contact with him again as he pondered it over. He even began to count on his fingers. Every time he pointed at another digit, I felt my face lose a little color. He finally stopped and said, "Seven times."

I felt my mind reel and my stomach turn. Oh God, I felt like I was going to get sick. He sighed, adding more dramatic effect. "Every other year since he was four. He'd get a year with them, enough to feel safe and loved. Then, BAM!" He smacked his hand on the table, causing me to jump. His eyes bored into mine. I felt trapped in his gaze once again.

"First time was a home robbery invasion, all of them were shot and killed. He was spared as the cops pulled up to the house. Then two years in a row, two drunk drivers crashed into his car. Everyone died instantly but him. Then a house fire, then a tornado,  and then a plane crash. He wasn't home or with the family at either of those. The final one?"

I didn't want to hear it, the other scenes still flashing before my eyes. I squeezed my eyes, trying to make the images go away. He finished up, "The father went crazy one night on drugs and alcohol. He had gotten fired that day and killed the family and himself in front of him. He was 18 when that happened."

I flinched, like a gun shot had rung out in the cafeteria. I slowly opened my eyes to make eye contact with Louis again. He was sitting back in his chair watching me. I swallowed and asked, "How does...how does that make him sensitive?"

"Everything he was close to, everything he loved was ripped away from him. He now shuts out love and those feelings surrounding it. He's afraid if he loves something else, it'll be ripped away from him. Just like his seven families," He explained.

I looked to the guy again, Ralph. He was now shaking as he put the piece in his meat in his mouth. Louis kept talking, "He feels that way with everything. He's sensitive to love and happiness because he shuts it out so much."

I looked back to Louis. I asked, "How does that land him in a mental hospital?"

Louis let another humorless chuckle out, smirking a bit. "After the final incident, he didn't have to go back to foster care. He went and lived with friends and continued to go to school. That's when he started to shut out the feelings. Drugs helped as well."

I nodded, feeling my stomach turn again, awaiting the answer. He sighed, "Since he started to feel as if everything would be taken away from him, he started acting violently towards people or things that threatened to take away his things. He thought that he was protecting his stuff that way."

Reality dawned on me. I stuttered out, "He...He attacked people? Did he kill anyone?"

Louis shook his head and a sigh of relief escaped me. "He didn't kill anyone, but he was deemed unstable and dangerous when he attacked his teacher for trying to take his notebook where he wrote down everything."

I frowned, looking back to Ralph again as he was struggling to put another piece of steak in his mouth. Louis kept going, "When the principal was called down, he attacked him as well, thinking he was going to let the teacher take it. Once the cops were called down, he attacked them too. He felt scared and like his freedom and his self was in danger."

Ralph finally got the next piece in his mouth and the psychologist smiled and congratulated him. I looked back to Louis. He was still watching me with a blank expression. How could he have no emotion when telling these stories? I felt sick and overwhelmed while he didn't bat an eyelash.

Louis finished up, "Ever since then he was in mental hospitals. His case only worsened when he would be given stuff for treatment and then have it taken away, making him lash out. Now he treats everything like it's going to disappear. He's hesitant and nervous around everything given to him."

I frowned more, understanding why he was so hesitant to eat his food. He probably thinks it'll be taken away from him if he doesn't eat it but at the same time he probably freaks out once it's gone from his tray.

I watched Louis watch me. He knew a lot about Ralph, basically his whole reasoning for being here and his backstory. I studied all the other females and males in the room. They each had a backstory and a reason to be here. Did he know them all? What was his?

I made eye contact with him once again. "You sure knew a lot about Ralph. Did he tell you the whole story?"

Louis' lips quirked up into a small smile, but there was no emotion in it. He told me, "Five years here is a long time. Beside the group sessions, little group activities, food, doctor sessions, and treatment, there isn't much to do but sit and think."

My eyebrows knitted together, perplexed. "Are you telling me you just made all that up?"

Another one of those chuckles escaped him. It made my skin crawl. "No," he said. "I've talked to mainly everyone here. I know most of their backstories and reasons for being here. In group sessions, we have to repeat the same thing. Why we're here, what happened to cause it, and our progress of the week. Sitting in your cell for most the day, it's the only news I get. It's the information my brain feeds on. I sit and reflect on it."

I understood it now. I nodded thinking about it. He added in, "I know mainly everyone in section A, some in B, but rarely any in C. They aren't allowed out of their cells for much."

Just bringing up the letter c made my skin crawl. I asked, "Do you know their auras too?"

His small smile returned. "Yes," he told me. "All auras have a permanent color in them that defines the person they are. It's the closest layer to the person- their outline if you will. The other colors that stream off it describe their feelings at the moment. Those change daily."

I nodded looking over to Ralph, thinking of the indigo aura he was giving off now. Apparently, that was. He was on his last piece of steak. When I looked back to Louis, his hard gaze had returned. It had let up a bit when he was talking to me, but now I could feel the intensity of his gaze again.

Again, I felt trapped. The room's noise was soon canceled out as his eyes bored into mine.  My heart beat and my uneasy breathing were amplified in my ears.

"And yours..."

His voice was barely audible to me. All I could hear was my heart beating too fast in my chest. "M-Mine?"

He gave me a small smile, but his eyes were distant. They stared into mine. I felt violated, as if he were reading me like an open book. I felt exposed.

"Yours is red," he finally said.

"Red?"

"Red," he confirmed. It was silent. He didn't offer me a definition of what a red aura meant. His eyes narrowed at me, seeing my confusion. "You seem perplexed, do you know what a red aura means?"

I slowly shook my head, our eye contact never breaking. The longer he held my gaze the more uneasy I felt; the more exposed.

He kept my gaze as he absentmindedly picked up the pen in his fingers. He explained without emotion, "A red aura can mean many things. Yours?" My eyes had drifted the pen he rolled between his pointer and thumb. "Yours is wavering ever so slightly. It's also tinted darker."

I tried to swallow but my throat was too dry. I could feel his eyes burning holes into my head. I kept my eyes trained on the pen moving slowly in his fingers. "That means you're nervous," he told me.

Chills exploded down my spine, my palms began to sweat, and I could feel my heart rate pick up. He added, "I'm use to that reaction though."

I sighed lowly, hoping he didn't notice, in relief. I flexed my fingers only now noticing how my hands were slightly shaking. I clasped them together under the table so he wouldn't notice. I felt the heat of his gaze slowly follow them.

After watching the area where they rested under the table, his gaze came back to mine. I quickly adverted my eyes back to the pen still rolling in his fingers.

I could feel my heart rate pick up again just from feeling his gaze as he watched me in silence. He abruptly said, "It also represents fear."

I felt the color drain from my face. The pen stopped moving. I looked up to meet his hard gaze. He had a thin smile, eyes glistening with mischief. "Do you fear me, Harry?"

My heart rate picked up, blocking out the noise and chatter from the others in the cafeteria. My eyes darted around the cafeteria looking for a distraction. I could feel myself heating up and my throat had gone dry once again.

Louis began to tap the pen on his fingers and he shrugged. "It's not wrong to fear me; it's sensible."

I finally gained the courage to make eye contact with him again, only making it hotter. Did the thermostat get bumped up? Had the heat turned on? Searching his eyes, I came up blank with what he was feeling. I couldn't read him like he could read me.

And that made me more uneasy.

Suddenly, he let out a low chuckle without humor. "If this is you around a section A patient, I'd hate to see you around a section C patient."

I didn't respond, only imagining that outcome in my head. He probably already knew it before I did. The tiny smirk on his lip confirmed my thoughts.

He tilted his head to the side a tiny bit, eyes narrowing as he examined me again. "Interesting," was all he said.

I waited for him to continue, but when it was evident he wasn't going to, I asked, "What is?"

His tiny smirk broadened a bit, but there was still no feeling behind it- it was empty. He stopped tapping the pen and set it back on the table. "You haven't denied my accusation of your aura. You haven't told me auras aren't real and that I'm crazy."

I shrugged. "You see what you see. To me, I can't see auras so they're not real- to me. You? You claim you can see them so they're real to you." His eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "As for your accusation on my aura? Well, I know I'm afraid and nervous. I didn't know what to expect."

He studied me for a while after that. I felt his gaze burning into my soul again and I coughed, feeling the heat rise again. I added in, "And you're right, if this how I react to a section A patient, I don't want to see myself around a section C patient either."

He let out an under-the-breath, small chuckle. He rolled the pen on the table, his eyes truly, finally leaving me for the first time. They concentrated the pen and I wondered if he could see auras of nonliving things. Now that'd be crazy, as nonliving things couldn't have feelings.

Some people in here might even argue that.

"So, you don't think I'm crazy?"

I looked to him, a little shocked with the question and the genuine curiosity in his voice. I pondered in thought and finally told him, "I don't know what to think. I don't know you well enough to make that decision. I also don't have the degree to make that decision legally."

Another one of those chuckles escaped him. He rolled the pen back to me, looking up and locking our gazes. All he said was, "You're an interesting one, Mr. Styles."

I caught the pen under my hand, not breaking his eye contact. Chills exploded up my arm as the pen came in contact with my hand. I wrapped my hand around it. "Same goes for you, Mr. Tomlinson."

All he offered in return was his empty, tiny smirk. The double doors behind him opened up, revealing Dr. Roy. He walked in and talked to a security guard beside them. I examined him. His face looked angry and the guard just nodded along to everything he was saying. He abruptly pointed to the section C door and the guard nodded and headed down to it. He exited through it.

Dr. Roy visibly sighed and ran his hand through his hair. One patient walked by him and Dr. Roy immediately smiled at him and offered a small greeting. The patient proceeded to walk by him after a small nod.

"What are you looking at?"

My eyes snapped back to Louis who was watching me again. I felt my skin begin to crawl. I knew he was reading me again. My eyes flickered over his shoulder to Dr. Roy who was now on his phone. He looked over his shoulder seeing him. "Oh."

I looked to Louis at that point as he turned back to me. "Oh?" I asked.

"Oh."

I waited for an elaboration. I didn't get one. I let it go, sighing. A question popped into my mind. I looked to Dr. Roy once more before looking to Louis. His eyebrows raised at me, sensing my curiosity probably through my aura. "When you were leaving Dr. Roy's office earlier today, you mentioned something about him being silver."

He just nodded at me, watching me. I asked, "What does a silver aura mean?"

The same empty, small smirk appeared again. He leaned back in his seat as he regarded me with that smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know?"


	5. Chapter 4

PATIENT NAME: Louis William Tomlinson

GENDER: Male

AGE: 25

HEIGHT: 5'9"

EYE COLOR: Blue/Green

HAIR DESCRIPTION: Brown/Short/Fringe

EXTRA FEATURES: Tattoos on chest/arms/ankles/leg

REASON FOR BEING INSTITUTED:  Claims to see auras and know what one is feeling/doing from them

The first page of Louis' information folder contained only the basics. His recent picture took up the rest of the page. His eyes still gave me the same uneasy feeling that they did in person.

I was now at my apartment that I shared with a fellow classmate and good friend, Niall. He lives in Amador where as I am from a city across the state. 

I met Niall once at a psychology convention that was held in a city where both our undergraduate colleges took us on a field trip. We got paired up for an exercise that didn't end too well.

There was a station that focused on pressure and where someone else got the consequence of your wrong answer. I was lucky enough to be partnered with Niall, where he volunteered me as the one who would get a mini shock if he got the answer wrong. 

What they forgot to mention to him before he started punching away answers was that each wrong answer increased the shock a tiny bit.

His task was to say the color that was inside the word on the screen. The catch after a few of both being the same, the word written started to be different than the color of the word. An example would be that the word was 'Green', but the color of the word was actually yellow. If he said green in the example, then I'd receive a shock.  By the 50th shock, my hand had gone completely numb.

I was shocked a total of 67 times. It's safe to say Niall was terrible at this game.

He felt bad about my hand (which regained feeling about ten minutes later), but found it funny. He didn't find it as funny when I did the same to him in return. After that he never left my side the whole day. 

And after that we stayed in contact, becoming good friends. When I learned he was too attending Amador University, he suggest I move in with him. We've managed to live so far.

I was sitting in our mini kitchen as he whipped up some baked chicken for dinner. "Do you want that seasoning on yours?" His voice came from the kitchen. 

I looked up the folder and shut it. "Of course, plain chicken is disgusting."

"Just making sure! Last time you got angry I put it on yours."

"That's because you thought it'd be funny to use a shit ton of pepper instead of the actual seasoning."

A chuckle was heard from the stove. "That was an accident!"

"Yeah, just like when you actually mixed up the sugar and salt when baking cookies."

"Hey!" He laughed while putting the chicken in the oven. "I never said I was a good cook."

I played with the folder's cover, flipping it between my hands. "You didn't have to tell me, I got first-hand experience."

He wiped his hands on a towel glowering at me, "Watch it or I'll 'accidentally' put pepper as your seasoning next time."

I gave him a side glance before looking back to the file. I heard the chair next to mine scrap against the wood floor. Niall asked, "How was the first day?"

I felt his prying eyes on the file and shut it saying, "It went well." I saw his eyes shift up to met mine. I patted the closed file, "Patient privacy."

"I'm surprised you got the file to take home in the first place," was his response.

I shrugged and said, "It's general information and family history. There's not a social security number or bank notes. It has family contacts, but that's only if I need to contact them."

"Still," he said stuffing a corn muffin in his mouth. The rest of his comment was lost in his full mouth, but it didn't seem important as he asked another question after he swallowed. "You've heard the big story from there haven't you?"

I put the file in my bag. "What story?"

"You're working with Dr. Roy, right?" I nodded. "Well, three years ago, a patient died at Amador."

I had my laptop now out on the table. "There's rumors of patients dying there every week. Plus, they're sent to Amador because they're meant to never leave. It's normal for patients to pass there."

"Is it normal for patients to be burned alive?"

I fell silent and looked to him from over my laptop. "By another patient or..." I asked, not wanting to finish the sentence.

He leaned back in his chair. "That's where it gets tricky. The patient was with Dr. Roy when an electric fire exploded."

I looked the incident up on Google as Niall continued. "They say he was having his daily meeting with the patient when it went haywire."

I clicked on a news article titled "ELECTRICAL FIRE CLAIMS LIFE OF AMADOR PATIENT". I read the opening line, "Last night at Amador Mental Hospital, a tragic electrical fire claims the life of patient Matthew Storm."

Niall hummed in response as I skimmed over the article. After finishing it, I sat back looking to him. He raised an eyebrow at me, "Well?"

I shook my head. "That's just crazy. I mean, it was definitely an accident. It's just so crazy to think about."

Niall agreed and picked at another corn muffin. "Something they obviously don't talk about lately, but I thought you should know."

I shrugged looking at the video that was attached to the article. It was the surveillance camera footage of the incident. Niall added, "I just didn't want you to hear the rumors of the accident."

I clicked on the video and asked, "Rumors?"

It started off normal. Dr. Roy was sitting at a table with Matthew, as the article had identified him. Niall said, "Yeah, that's what I meant by tricky earlier. Somehow information got twisted. People say the fire wasn't an accident, that someone initially caused it."

I gave him a quick frown before looking back to the video. "That's disgusting, no one would ever do that," I replied.

He gave a small shrug and said, "You never know, sadly. The evidence here obviously shows that it was an accident. Matthew just happened to be sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I ignored the first bit, focusing on the video. They were chatting as Dr. Roy wrote down his little notes. It was weird. Dr. Roy seemed taller in the video than he did in real life. Must be the camera effects.

Suddenly, the wall beside them exploded. Both were sent flying and out of the camera's view. The footage kept rolling though. Fire quickly spread over the area as did the smoke. Soon, the camera crashed and the screen went black. The video ended.

I sighed, it coming out a bit shaky. Niall stuffed the rest of his corn muffin his mouth saying, "Skin crawling, huh?"

I barely understood him, but nodded. I said, "I'm just surprised I never heard of it, especially when I was doing my research on it before emailing about an internship."

The ding of the oven went off, signaling that the chicken was ready. Niall stood telling me, "Well, they actually tried a lot to keep the coverage on it low. Dr. Roy really didn't want the information getting out."

I raised my eyebrow up at that. "Why?"

He said putting oven mitts on, "Dr. Roy explained that he didn't want a lot of attention on the hospital. More attention means more people coming. He told the news that it would make some of the patients uneasy and their first priority is their safety."

He pulled the chicken out and cut it open to check it. I scrolled through the options on Google from the search. I responded, "An understandable reason."

Niall brought over two plates with our separate pieces of chicken on each. I nodded my thanks as I took the plate. I grabbed a corn muffin as he said, "Yup. That's why most people outside of Amador don't know about it."

I set the corn muffin down and cut the chicken up into pieces. "He did a really good job of making sure it didn't spread. Hopefully, an accident like that never happens again."

Niall nodded, agreeing silently, as he stuffed a piece of his chicken in his mouth. Just as I placed it in my mouth, Niall's face twisted in a sour pucker. He looked queasy. "I think I used the pepper by mistake again."

I spit my piece out before he finished the sentence and began to wipe the napkin across my tongue. I didn't stop until I heard Niall's laughter. I gave him a warning glance. He only laughed harder. "I was totally joking with you!"

I chucked my corn muffin at him.


	6. Chapter 5

"You paint everyday?" I asked Louis as we entered the small classroom.

Louis walked over to a small round table and sat in one of the three chairs. I sat in the one across from him rather than in the one next to him. It was my second day at Amador Mental Hospital and it was the second half of the day. It would be the first activity I observed Louis on.

All his answer was a nod. Soon, a blank piece of sheet of computer paper was placed in front of him along with different cups filled with paint. He picked up a paint brush and looked to me. Chills exploded down my back again as his intense gaze locked onto me. He explained, "They hope it'll give us a moment to express our feelings."

With the empty tone in his voice, I figured that'd be hard for him. He shifted his gaze away from me at that moment and I felt the trapped air in my lungs escape. He was examining the room as he rolled the paintbrush between his fingers slowly. His eyes stopped roaming the room as they locked on a middle aged man sitting alone at another table.

The room had felt as if it had dropped ten degrees. Even though Louis wasn't gazing at me, it felt like he was. I was getting nervous by just watching him. He suddenly dipped his paint brush into the cup filled with purple paint.

He plopped the brush onto the paper, making a huge blob of purple paint in the middle. He repeated the same process a few more times. I grew perplexed watching the blob of purple grow. Setting down that brush, he picked up a new one and plopped it into the cup filled with white paint. He did this all without removing his eyes from the man.

He moved the brush to his piece of paper and mixed the white paint into the blob of purple paint. He began to swirl the two together. I watched as the purple tinted lighter. Once it was all mixed together, he began to spread the paint all over the page. He didn't stop until the whole page was colored.

Setting the brush to the side, he sat still. My eyes were still focused on the painting, trying to figure out what he had painted. "Lavender," he suddenly spoke.

My eyes flicked from his painting to him. His eyes were still trained on the men at the table. Turning my focus to the man he added, "His aura is lavender."

Of course,  I had no idea what that meant. I tried to figure it out by examining the man. He had a paintbrush in one hand that had been dipped in red paint. He hadn't drawn anything on the paper yet. He was too busy staring off into space. The paint slowly dripped off the brush tips and onto the paper. 

Looking back to Louis, his gaze was now on me. There was still no emotion present in his eyes or expression. Pushing away the nerves from his gaze, I asked, "What does his lavender aura mean?"

Louis kept his gaze on me for a bit longer. I kept the eye contact, fidgeting my gaze away every few seconds. His gaze had a power that overwhelmed me if I kept eye contact for too long. Finally, he blinked and looked back over to the man. He simply stated, "He's daydreaming."

"Daydreaming?"

"Daydreaming," He repeated. I learned quickly he tended to do this. Instead of giving me an elaboration or carrying on the conversation, he would repeat what I had said. I didn't know if he did it because he found amusement in it or if it pertained to his mental disorder.

He picked the brush back up and set it in the cup of water. I watched as the paint slipped off the brush tips and mixed into the water. It became a muddy purple. Watching the water I asked, "Does he daydream often?"

Louis added the white covered paint brush to the cup, making the water more muddy. He said, "Always does. He spaces out frequently in group meetings."

My gaze focused on the man again. This time, his hand was moving the paintbrush across the paper; however, he wasn't looking at what he was painting. His gaze was still staring off into space, a lost look in his eyes. 

Louis fanned his hand over his painted piece of paper with a flat expression. He told me, "That's his problem. He can't separate reality from fantasy. While it looks like he's daydreaming to us, it's reality to him."

"What's his name?"

"Phillip."

I looked back over to Phillip. I couldn't read from his facial expression if his fantasy was enjoyable, painful, or stimulating any emotional response. The only way I could tell he wasn't locked into reality was by him staring at the wall with wide, glazed-over eyes. 

Looking back to Louis, he was busy getting another piece of computer paper. He had set the lavender piece of paper off to the side. He placed the new piece of paper in front of him and swirled the brushes in the water. Once one was clean, he dried it off.

I watched as he began to examine the room again. His eyes locked on a young female in the room who was swinging her ponytail in her hand with a big grin. She was working fast on her painting. His brushed dip in the yellow paint.

I watched as he repeated the same process before. He plopped loads of yellow paint onto the piece of paper, only to leave it there. He then gathered white on a separate brush and began to mix it in with the yellow paint. He kept adding white this time, however, to come up with a pale yellow.

Then he repeated his painting process: spreading the color over the page until it was completely covered.

After he was finished, he set the paint brush off to the side again. "Pale yellow," he told me.

I figured he was talking about the girl's aura and asked, "What does a pale yellow aura mean?"

He leaned back in his set, regarding me with an empty expression. Every time his gaze landed on me, I felt the nerves spike up in my system. It's as if his piercing blue eyes pierced through every defense I set up. He told me, "It can mean many things."

I wanted for an elaboration, but he just kept gazing at me. It wasn't like his other gazes. This one didn't felt as if he were examining me and trying to figure me out. This gaze felt like a normal gaze. It still didn't fail to send a line of chills up my spine.

He finally elaborated, "For her it represents positivity."

I looked back over to the girl. She wore the same big grin but was now moving her head side-to-side. Listening hard, I could hear a faint hum coming from her lips. Louis spoke from behind me, "You remember how I told you the inner most layer of a person's aura defines them?"

I turned back around to face him and nodded. The tiny, empty smirk appeared on his lips. I felt dread creep through me. My palms began to sweat in reaction in anticipation of his response. He tilted his head slightly and responded, "Hers changes. She has three."

Confusion washed over me and overtook any sense of fear. "Three?" I asked. "How does that make any sense?"

The tiny smirk stayed on his lip. I was starting to figure out that he got amusement from my confusion. He explained, "What that inner most layer of their aura, their outline, represents is their personality and who they are. Can you guess what having three different outlines means?"

He proceeded to tilt his head the other way asking the question. I answered, "Three personalities?"

"Three personalities."

That was the only response I got. Yup, he definitely got amused at my confusion and repeating everything I said. His tilt of the head deepened and the slight widening of his smirk confirmed my suspicion. He then leaned forward on the table, resting his elbows on each side of his painting. Placing his chin in his palms, titling his head again, he asked, "So Mr. Styles, what does your schooling tell you about multiple personalities?"  

The tiny smirk never left his lips. Again, his gaze was piercing me, challenging me. For a moment, I thought I sensed a spark of amusement in there; however, it was gone before I had a chance to actually acknowledge if it was there. I told him, "Dissociative Identity Disorder."

A big grin replaced his tiny smirk. I could see right through it, I knew it wasn't real. He told me with a fake enthusiastic tone, "Good job, Mr. Styles. Also commonly known as...?"

"Multiple Personality Disorder," I replied flatly, not amused by his game.

Sitting back in his chair, he clapped loudly once. "Nicely done, Mr. Styles," he told me. "A+ for you."

I rolled my eyes as the big grin turned back into his tiny, empty smirk. He told me, "The personality showing right now is pale yellow, the second is black, and the third is yellow green."

I waited for an elaboration on the aura colors, but to no surprise, one didn't come. Instead of asking what they meant, I asked, "Do you have all the aura colors along with their meanings written down in a book?"

He shook his head, the tiny smirk disappearing into an emotionless expression. "I have them all memorized. Why?"

I shrugged and said, "Just wondering. I was going to see, if you had a book full of them, if I could read it."

The head tilt returned, along with the slight narrowing of his eyes. He told me, "You could probably find a list of them in my file." I don't know if it was meant to come out hostile, but I felt the tone in his voice harden. He added, more to himself, "You could probably find anything on me in my file."

I frowned feeling a little tug in my chest. I told him, "Why read the file when I can find out from you instead?"

I saw the curiosity light up in his eyes as he regarded me. He leaned back a bit in his chair. "I could be lying to you about everything. All those auras I told you about, I could be making it up."

I shrugged a little bit. "You could be," I admitted. Somehow, I felt as if he liked the idea of me getting information about him from him. I believe he felt he was more appreciated if I trusted him to tell me the truth. I copied his head tilt. "I guess I'll just have to trust you."

He fell silent, and for once it wasn't because he was doing it to for his own amusement. He regarded me with those curious eyes again. He asked in a low voice, "You haven't read my file?"

"Just the first page: basic information."

Silence again. I believe it was genuine shock that kept him silent. He looked like he was struggling for words. He finally met my gaze and said, "You don't know my history? Why I'm here or how?"

He seemed afraid of my answer. I choose my next words carefully. "I just know that you claim to see auras and that you can tell what people feel from them. Nothing else."

From what I saw, relief flushed throughout his body. He sat back in his chair, regarding me with another curious gaze. I added in, "I'd like to know more though; but, I want to hear it from you."

It took him a while to compose himself back to his normal, expressionless phase. Once he reached it, his tiny smirk appeared once again. He told me with a flat tone, "I guess you'll just have to trus-"

He stopped abruptly.

I looked at him confused. His eyes had widened a bit as he looked to the door to the classroom. My gaze followed his, but the door was still closed. Nothing had happened. Puzzled,  I looked back to him. He was still gazing at the door like he was in a trance. "Lou-"

"There's a new one," he interrupted me.

My confusion only grew. "New what?"

Silence. I watched him again, trying to read him. Worry began to creep up in me as his gaze hardened at the door. His facial expression was back to the emotionless one when I first met him. He told me finally, "There's a new patient."


	7. Chapter 6

Shortly after Louis had acknowledged the presence of new patient, the group in the art room was summoned for a group meeting.

After Louis had mentioned the new patient, he was closed off again. He had sat back in his chair for the rest of the class until they were called for the meeting. I'm not sure if he got a bad vibe from however he sensed the new patient, or if he was just being himself.

All I knew now was that I was in a room of ten patients. They all sat in chairs that were spread out to form a circle; Louis sat beside two empty chairs on his left side. I was standing against the wall, across from him. His eyes were trained on the door.

Soon enough, Dr. Roy and another male walked into the room. He was the new patient. I could tell by the way Louis' gaze shifted as they entered the room. His gaze had just been lazily watching the door, but snapped to attention when the pair walked through the door.

The white jumpsuit the man was wearing also gave me another hint.

The duo walked to the two empty chairs and sat down. Dr. Roy was seated beside Louis. Looking to Louis, I noticed his gaze was now focused on the new patient. I followed his gaze to find the new patient gazing around the circle.

Suddenly, his eyes shot up and locked onto mine. I froze.

Somehow, his gaze felt more powerful than Louis'. It wasn't distant like Louis'; however, it felt like it was reeling me in towards him. Swallowing hard, feeling the nerves spike up inside, I slowly drew my gaze away and to the ceiling.

I could still feel the presence of his gaze. The power in it felt similar to Louis', but different at the same time. While Louis' felt as if he was reading me like an open book, this guy's made me feel like he was pulling me in to somewhere I didn't want to go; somewhere I wouldn't return from.

Thankfully, Dr. Roy's voice broke through the silence. "I'm glad to see you all gathered here today for a surprise group meeting." I felt the man's gaze leave me. Slowly, I let my eyes fall on Dr. Roy as he continued to speak. "Today, someone else has been admitted to Amador. He will be joining your group."

I found my gaze drifting towards Louis. Still emotionless, his gaze was focused hard on the new guy. As if sensing it, the new guy looked to Louis, meeting his gaze. Instantly, the tension in the room intensified. The attention of every patient in the circle focused on them. I also found myself drawn to the stare down.

Neither of them flinched or blinked; they remained motionless. I could feel both powers of their gazes crashing into each other like fire and ice. The tension between the two was growing quickly, thickening with each passing second. For a split second, I saw the new guy's left pinky finger twitch.

"His name is Jared," Dr. Roy's voice cut through the tension. It was like he snapped his fingers in the middle of the two. Both of their gazes snapped to him, as did every other patient. Mine stayed trained on the new patient, or Jared. Newly formed on his lips, was a small sinister smirk. Nothing like the empty one Louis always wore.

Dr. Roy spoke to the whole group, "We'll continue on like a normal group meeting. You'll partner up with the next person on your list and go through the regular procedure."

After that, people in the circle started to move and go by their respected partner. Louis, however, stayed seated, his gaze drawn back to Jared. Jared was too busy watching the others move to notice this time. Soon, the girl with dissociative identity disorder sat by Louis, drawing his attention away from Jared.

I was so focused on Louis, I hadn't noticed Dr. Roy had walked up to me until he was nearly in front of me. I offered a small smile in greeting and he mirrored it. He said, "Usually, when a new patient is admitted, we call a group meeting. We like to get them into the run of things as soon as possible. We don't want to rush them into anything, but we want it feel like normal as soon as we can. It helps make them feel like they belong."

I nodded and saw everyone was paired up, except Jared. Him entering the group made the total number eleven; uneven for everyone to have a partner. As if reading my mind, Dr. Roy told me, "Usually, if we end up with a group with an uneven number, one of us psychiatrists would step up and be the other partner."

That's when he dropped a bombshell on me.

He looked a little nervous asking me, but it didn't prepare me for what he had asked. "Now, like I said, usually one of us working here go with the extra patient. But, since you're here... I was thinking you could go with him. Would you mind?"

I felt my skin begin to crawl, goosebumps exploding down my arms. The other voices in the room became distant as the sound of my pounding heart became deafening in my ears. I stuttered out, "M-Me?"

He offered a small smile of comfort. It didn't help at all. He tried to reason with me, "I know it's only your second day here, but these are all section A and B patients, mainly A. Security is here in case anything ever happens. Nothing has though."

Those words did as much as his small smile, aka nothing. My heart was still beating fast and I dared a glance at Jared. He was leaning back in his chair, tapping his hands on his thighs, looking around the circle. My attention returned to Dr. Roy as he explained further, "It's good practice for what you'll possibly do in the future. That's all it is. You don't have to diagnosis any of them, you're just talking to them."

I felt my worry ease the slightest bit. All I would have to do is talk to them, that's it. Then why the hell was my heart racing so fast? Why did I feel like I was being pushed into a situation that didn't offer a favorable outcome?

He was right; this is part of the work I'd be performing once I graduated. And here he was, offering me a chance to experience it. So, why wasn't I jumping at the chance to go through with it?

My mind immediately went back to stare down between Louis and Jared. The way their gazes connected, the way the power radiated between the two, the way Jared slightly flinched towards Louis. Just the thoughts of the events sent my heart racing again.

Unconsciously, my eyes slowly trailed to where Jared sat again. My eyes focused on his left hand, where his fingers were drumming against his thigh. That was it. It was Jared.

Ever since he entered the room, there was something about him unsettling. Ever since he made eye contact with me, the feeling of danger seeped into my thoughts. Ever since that stare down with Louis, I knew Jared wasn't to be messed with.

Abruptly, his fingers stilled on his thigh. Before I could process the question as to why they stopped, I felt the gaze. I instantly froze up. Again, I felt trapped.

I didn't dare look at him. I slowly pulled my gaze from his fingers back to Dr. Roy. He was offering a small smile of comfort, completely oblivious to my unsettled nature. He told me in a calm voice, "I know it can seem intimidating," _Yeah, no shit._ "But they all share the same goal as us: to get them better."

What he said was true. Even though those sent to Amador will never be released and have their symptoms for life, they want to be able to enjoy their life still. They want to learn to live with their disorders and not let it control them.

Of course, there are those who didn't want to get better, couldn't care less, or thought there was nothing to fix. Most of those patients were probably under section C.

The thought of those patients made my thoughts travel to Louis. He was a section A patient. From the way he acted, detached and uninterested, he would seem to fit that second category. However, he interacts in the activities and responds to what he's told to do. The emotional detachment just may be apart of his disorder. I made a mental note to remember that while I figured him out.

Thinking of this, I dared a look to where Louis sat. He was leaned back nonchalantly in his chair, listening to the girl he was partnered with talk. Even though his posture seemed relaxed, his eyes seemed focused like they always were when he was viewing someone's aura. He seemed to be into what the girl was telling him. His words from yesterday floated into my mind, _"Sitting in your cell for most the day, it's the only news I get. It's the information my brain feeds on. I sit and reflect on it."_

 Analyzing his posture once again, I concluded he had been telling the truth. He hears out what the other patient tells them, collects it, analyzes it, and then puts it into context with his own disorder- the color of the aura.

Smiling to myself, I concluded he was apart of the first group of patients. He wanted to get better, even if he was applying the activities to his own disorder. He was actively acting in his group sessions.

However, the man who was still gazing me, gave me a feeling he fit better into the latter of the two.

I dared to my move my gaze to Jared, who hadn't stopped staring at me since he stopped tapping his fingers against his thighs. The power of his gaze wrapped around me like a chain, and it started to yank me towards him mentally. His gaze was like a trap- menacing and deadly.

The vibe he radiated wasn't something I felt landed him in the section A or B category. However, here he sat, with section A and B patients. It was his first day here, the psychiatrists were more than likely seeing how he would react. Then, they'd label him more thoroughly. 

"So, did you want to do it?"

Dr. Roy's voice cut right through the chain and my eyes flickered back to him. Having been so focused on the words he told me and applying them to Louis and Jared, I forgot to acknowledge my decision.

The bright side of doing it was that I got experience and got to apply what I already know. The downside was that I'd have to work with Jared; but, as Dr. Roy had said with the patients meeting up with their next partners, then I'd only be with Jared for today until he was up with me again.

I stole a quick glance towards Jared. His stare was still focused on me. I licked my lips, feeling the nerves swirl in my stomach. If I didn't take this opportunity right now, I wasn't sure when it'd come up again. Plus, thinking back to Jared, I would have to face patients like him some day. I'd have to talk to them more than once. I had better start getting use to them now.

I nodded, feeling a surge of courage. "Alright," I told him. "I'll do it."

His smile in response was big. "Perfect!" he exclaimed. "I'll take you over to meet him, then you can start the regular procedure of the group meetings."

He walked off towards where Jared was seated; I followed. As soon as I moved from my spot on the wall, both Louis' and Jared's attention snapped to me. The power of both gazes were overwhelming. I decided to ignore Jared's and looked to Louis. His expression was the same emotionless state it had always been. His eyes betrayed him this time as his gaze followed me as I sat down in the chair in front of Jared.

His eyes were hard, probably checking my aura, and the way his eyebrows furrowed while examining me portrayed confusion. I offered a small smile to him, but Louis didn't offer anything back. All he did was tilt his head.

"Are you going to pay attention to the patient you were assigned to, or are you going to keep sending heart eyes over to aura boy over there?"

I jumped in my chair. I wasn't prepared for Jared to speak, or to be so bold. The rough edge of his voice matched the posture he maintained. Turning to look at him, feeling a blush sweep across my cheeks, I told him, "I was not sending him heart eyes, thank you."

Jared shrugged, a playful smirk finding its way to his lips. Dr. Roy was off to the side at the moment, talking to a guard quickly, but soon made his way over to us. He smiled big and said, "Jared, this is Harry. He is under an internship here and will be stepping in my place for today. He'll walk you through a regular group meeting discussion."

Jared replied, "Sounds terrific." I noted the heavily weighted sarcasm in his comment. Dr. Roy let it slide, giving me a smile of reassurance and walked off.

I mentally sighed, trying to build up courage. I smiled at Jared, one he didn't return. Sighing out loud, gathering up my courage, I told him, "It's nice to meet you, Jared."

He let out a snort and I felt my courage crumbling. He tilted his head to the side, stuffing his hands inside the jumpsuit's pockets. His gaze focused on me, the same sinister smirk slowly curling onto his lips. His next words shattered and destroyed the courage I had built up.

"Oh, Harry," he said, void of any emotion. "I wish I could say the same to you."


	8. Chapter 7

_"Oh, Harry," he said, void of any emotion. "I wish I could say the same to you."_

His words, his smirk, his everything shredded any piece of confidence I still had. I felt my heart begin to hammer in my chest. Jared must have been able to sense this as his smirk grew wider. "Maybe," he told me, "if you had met me ten years ago, I would've said that."

I didn't respond.

He let out a chuckle. He took his hands from his jumpsuit pockets and set them on his thighs. My eyes stayed glued to them, following every move. He began to tap his fingers against his thighs like before. "So, are you gonna get this show on the road or what?"

My eyes snapped up to meet his gaze. His eyes gleamed playfully but I could still sense the danger in them. He was masking it up behind humor. I slowly nodded and asked, "First off, why were you transferred to Amador?"

"The same reason as everyone else," he responded, leaning back in his chair.

I couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious. I examined his eyes once more, finding the humor dancing about. "Everyone is here because they're deemed to not recover from their mental disorder. That's the case for you?" I asked.

He nodded and leaned towards me a bit. Immediately, I felt my heart race faster. I saw Louis, out of the corner of my eye, flinch towards me as if he sensed it. Was he trying to sense my aura while doing the same for his partner?

"But I'm here for such a different reason at the same time," he told me. I saw the sinister look in his eyes this time. He wasn't masking it with humor. He wanted me to see it.

"That's the next section of a group meeting," I told him, "What caused you to be transferred here? What caused people to deem you unrecoverable?"

His small, sinister smirk formed on his lips again. His eyes told stories I couldn't figure out. The only thing I gathered from them were that they were dark and frightening.

"Do you really wanna know?" he asked.

Did I really? My heart was still pounding in my chest. It pounded in fear _and_ anticipation I realized. I wanted to know both for the sake of my job and my own curiosity.

If possible, his smirk grew more sinister. His voice dropped into a whisper as he told me, "You do." He sounded amused, he sounded like he approved of me wanting to know.

I gave him a nod in return, saying, "Tell me."

"Well, I don't wanna be 'cured'." He used air quotes around the word 'cured', tilting his head. "I like this feeling," he continued, "of power."

"Power?"

He nodded and said, "I feel alive." I distinctively noticed he didn't repeat me like Louis did. "I don't have those petty feelings like sympathy or sadness. I don't feel sorry for the pain I cause."

This time I knew the reason my heart was pounding. It was from pure fear. There was one disorder everyone knew was dangerous. That disorder had the same schema (mindset) as the one Jared portrayed.

It was Antisocial Personality Disorder.

Those diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder (APD) were dangerous. They don't feel remorse for the suffering they cause. They don't care or take other's well beings into consideration when they do things. They only care about themselves, not caring who they hurt in the process.

And now I sat across from one.

Louis' reaction towards him the second he walked in made sense. He probably sensed from his aura that he wasn't good news. Could Louis interpret auras that far? He had paired patient's auras up with their disorder and behavior. Was he able to tell Jared wasn't safe just from one glance into his aura?

My eyes drifted over to where Louis sat behind Jared. He was watching Jared. I could tell from his gaze, hard and concentrated, that he was seeing his aura. He was examining him, trying to pry open him like a book and read its contents.

"I wouldn't have been able to do everything I did," Jared spoke again, drawing my attention back to him, "if I had those weaknesses."

"And you didn't want to give that up?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He laughed, it was void of any emotion. It made my skin crawl. He smiled at me. "Are you crazy? I felt like I ruled the world. Who in their right mind would want to give that up?"

I could name a few people, me included. It wasn't right to disregard other people as obstacles that you could walk over. Looking at Jared, at his eyes, his posture, and his smile, I could tell he did that many times in his past life before Amador.

"So you don't want to be cured," I stemmed off that and he nodded in agreement, "but you had to end up in a mental hospital before Amador. Amador is the final destination. Why were you instituted before? How did they figure out you had APD?"

"This is where the fun begins," he told me, his sinister smirk returning. He leaned forward, asking, "Are you sure you want to know? I don't want your happy, positive image of me to change."

I noticed the heavy sarcasm lacing his tone but I also noticed the truth in his words. He knew the things he's done, how awful they were, but he didn't think they were. He knew we thought they were awful. He knew the game, if you want to call it that.

I nodded in response and I saw the mischief spark in his eyes. "Well," he began, "I've done so much I can't tell you a total number," I felt my stomach drop, "but I can tell you them in order." I'm not sure they made me feel any better, if it was supposed to.

"Let's start off with my age," he told me. "Right now I'm 26. If you remember my comment from earlier, I told you I would've said it was nice to meet you ten years ago. Do the math college boy, how old was I?"

"16."

"16!" he exclaimed, a smile beaming on his face. My stomach turned as I watched his expression shift to what seemed like pride and joy. He was going to confess to the horrible things he had done and be proud. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"At 16 was when I first noticed the power I had," he explained. I didn't like that he called it "power", but I let him continue. "I was always bullied in school. I didn't express any emotion because whenever I spoke up, someone would use it against me."

He licked his lips as he looked to the ceiling, pausing. He looked back to me, tilting his head. "When I did what I did, people felt bad for the kid. Not me. They didn't feel bad for me, the one who had been bullied since he was a little kid."

I felt my heart pound harder in my chest and I flexed my fingers, trying to calm myself down. "You know what I did when I was 16?" he asked me. I shook my head and he leaned towards me, whispering, "I beat the living shit out of him."

My heart dropped and I closed my eyes as he leaned back in his chair, a proud grin appearing on his face. "I snapped. We were in class and I just snapped," he continued to tell me. The image of the scene began to play out behind my closed eyelids. "I stood up, walked over to him, and beat the shit out of him."

The image of a young Jared walking over to another boy and pummeling him raced behind my eyelids. I winced slightly. "First, I grabbed his head and smashed it into his desk," he told me. The image burned in my mind, earning another wince. "I'll never forget the sound of his nose cracking." Another wince.

"It sent a thrill through me," he continued, "I felt alive. I felt like I was control for once. I felt like I had the power in the situation. So, I slammed his head repeatedly into the desk."

The image was burning in my mind, the sound of the nose cracking replaying over and over. "Blood went everywhere," he laughed, "It was all over the desk, his book, him, and me." Blood splattered in my mind, red staining _everything_.

"That's not even the best part," he told me. What could be "better"? I didn't want to know. "I yanked him from his chair and threw him to the floor. I was raising my leg to stomp on him, like he did to me years ago, but I was stopped. People held me back."

I opened my eyes a bit, looking to Jared. He was watching me, the smile still intact. His eyes were glazed over, the craziness glistening in the room's light. "The best part," he said, "was seeing him on the ground. He was hopeless, helpless, and in pain. He looked like how I felt every time he bullied me. It made me feel _good_."

I shuddered, chills making their way down my arms and back. Squeezing my eyes in an attempt to get rid of the chills, the image of the boy laying on the floor emerged. I could see him lying on the floor, covered in blood, limp. It made my heart heavy.

I opened my eyes again and looked back to Jared. "So your revenge, beating this kid up, made you feel in power?"

He nodded. "And so much more," he added, "but that wasn't the time where I felt the power I had. No, that was the beginning."

I wasn't sure I wanted to hear anymore, feeling sick. He had no remorse for beating a kid up to a bloody mess. He felt alive from it, he said it made him feel good. That was only the beginning of what he had done too.

"Yes, I felt the power in the situation when I was beating him up," he confirmed, "but it wasn't till after the situation had settled, did I realize what I had."

I imagined him sitting in the principal's office as havoc was stirring around him. He would have time to be drained of the adrenaline from the fight. He would have time to calm his mind and think rationally. "When I was sitting off to the side while everyone was trying to handle the situation, I didn't feel bad. Most people after such a rash reaction feel remorse for their inappropriate behavior." He shook his head. "Not me."

Putting his hands back in his jumpsuit pockets, he shrugged. "I didn't feel like what I did was wrong. I didn't care that he was in so much pain," he told me. "Even days after I still didn't feel bad for what I had done. That's when I knew."

"You knew you had your 'power'?"

He nodded and smirked again, the sinister one reappearing. He leaned towards me slightly and I instinctively leaned away from him. His eyes hardened, noticing my movement. "And I'm so glad I figured out that I had it. That's what led me on the path to how I got everything I wanted."

I was fidgeting with my fingers, nerves wrecking my entire body. I needed to get away from Jared, he wasn't safe. He belonged in with the section C patients, not out here.

He tilted his head at me. "Want to hear what I did next after discovering my blessing?"

 _Not really_ , I thought. The thought of him calling it a blessing or power made me more sick. I opened my mouth to speak when Dr. Roy stepped up behind me, telling everyone, "Wrap it up everyone. Group session is done. It's time for everyone to return back to their rooms."

I internally sighed, feeling relief wash over me. Jared, however, seemed disappointed. "That's too bad," he commented, "We were getting to the interesting part."

I didn't respond, too sick to. I had thought we already hit the "interesting" point but I guess there were more stories to tell. "I look forward to our next meeting, Harry," he told me. I wasn't.

He flashed me his signature smirk once more and stood up with the rest of the patients. Before leaving, he looked to me, mischief dancing in his eyes again. "It was nice to meet you, Harry," he said, eyes flickering behind me.

I turned around as Jared was escorted out. My eyes landed on Louis who was standing where his chair still was. His hard gaze was following Jared out the door.

When Jared disappeared from view, his eyes immediately snapped to mine. The same feeling of him reading me like an open book washed over me. His eyes pierced mine as he slowly made his way over to me.

"Stay away from him," he whispered in a warning tone.

My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as I looked to him. It was one of the few times he actually had emotion or anything other than sarcasm in his voice. "What?"

"Stay away from him," he repeated.

I was confused and lost at his sudden choice of words. "Stay away from him?"

Louis had been watching the empty space where Jared had exited the room when he reached me but his eyes snapped back to mine. "Stay. Away. From. Him."

He repeated me like usual but it wasn't for his amusement. His voice was hard, serious. It left no room for argument. "If this is because he has Antisocial Personality Disorder," I told him, "then don't worry, I already-"

"This isn't about anything you learned in a book," he interrupted. I flinched back a bit. Louis' gaze was hard, but it wasn't the penetrating one he used to read auras with. He was trying to prove his point. "This is more than that."

"How so?"

He looked back to the doorway and then back to me. "I told you how the outline, the innermost aura, was someone's personality, correct?" I nodded. "His matches others I've seen. They're all in section C."

I felt my heart begin to race again and his gaze shifted the slightest bit, picking up the change in my aura. It switched back in a second as he continued talking, "Not only people with Antisocial, whatever you called it, have it. I've seen people with Bipolar and OCD have it. Auras aren't assigned to a specific disorder, they're assigned to personalities."

"So," I said, hands shaking slightly, "you're telling me, besides his diagnosis, his aura is another reason to fear him?"

He nodded, saying, "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Why?" I asked. "What color is his aura?"

For one of the first times, I saw Louis' face display some sort of emotion. It was barely there but I noticed it. It displayed unease and dread. His eyes even left mine with uncertainty. If Jared's aura was making Louis this uneasy, I knew the threat was serious.

"Tell me," I urged him, my hand unconsciously grabbing onto his arm.

His eyes fell to the hand but I didn't remove it. Slowly, he raised his eyes back up to mine. The mental battle was evident in his eyes. I just nodded towards him, giving him silent encouragement. He nodded back.

"It was black."


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write in third person now (after I started this story) but I didn't want to switch up in the middle of it. So, some chapters may flip POV, but the main one will be Harry's. I just want to show scenes where Harry may not be present or the thoughts of someone else. Enjoy!

** Unknown POV **

The lights flickered around the small room I sat in. Around me sat drawers filled with files that contained many important papers. Off to the other side of the room were medications that were locked away.

No one was allowed in here without Dr. Roy's permission. Except me, of course. I didn't need his permission. I was in charge, he wasn't.

The memory filled my mind, a sinister smile curling onto my lips. It was a perfectly executed plan. It still amazed me to this day that we pulled it off; but, then again, it didn't surprise me. I could accomplish anything I put my mind to.

Soon, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," I called out.

There was a click as the door recognized the card key and unlocked. Two of my guards brought in a patient and sat him in the chair across from me. I crossed one leg over the other, setting my chin on my propped up arm. "Leave," I told the guards, my eyes not straying from the visitor, "wait outside until I call you back in."

They didn't question me. They nodded and left without a word. No one questioned me. They all knew what would happen if they did.

The man across from me cocked his head to the side. "You're not afraid I'll attack ya, boss?" he asked, a playful tone lacing into his voice. I also heard the threat behind it. It didn't faze me.

"Oh, Jared," I responded, boredom seeping into my voice, "you wouldn't get very far from your chair if you tried."

This raised an eyebrow from him. Confusion was written across his face, along with what looked like broken pride. "Want to try that theory out?" he challenged.

My eyes immediately darted to his hands as they began to clench around the arms of the chair. My face composition didn't change. His threats were boring me. I hadn't brought him here to fight. "As much as I would love to beat the bravado out of you," I told him, "I didn't bring you here for that reason."

His grip on the chair relaxed as a new curiosity blossomed over his features. He asked, "Then why did you drag me here in the middle of the night?"

"I overheard you today in the group meeting," I told him. He looked to be thinking back to the moment and then eyed me warily. "You said something along the lines of not wanting to be 'cured', am I correct?"

He nodded and sat back in his chair. He was interested in what I had to say, I could tell that much. It made me smile to myself. I said, "Well, I want the same thing as you." I saw the interest grow in his eyes but confusion appear as well. "I want it for both of us, all of us."

He let the words sink as he regarded me with confusion. "That sounds like a dream," he started, "but sounds really fucking unrealistic coming from you. Is this a sick joke? Part of therapy?"

I couldn't blame him for the accusation. With who I "was", the words did seem unrealistic coming from me. I sighed and said, "I understand that, but I'm not who you think I am."

His eyes narrowed at me. "I may be in a mental institution but I'm not blind," he shot back at me.

I laughed. His hands clenched the chair once more, his teeth gritting together. I could feel the anger rolling off him. I saw the danger in his eyes, I saw the malice floating in them. He was perfect. I needed him.

"If you're not blind," I smirked, "then use your eyes better."

I saw the flames in his eyes ignite more, growing bigger. His left pinky finger twitched in irritation. I chuckled at his visible frustration. "Let me help you," I added.

Slowly, I reached up to my eyes. I removed my colored contacts. As I did this, my eyes never left Jared. Setting the contacts in their case, I shifted my hair in a different style. A scar on my right temple was now visible. I leaned closer to him, smiling sweetly.

His eyes had widened. "No fucking way," was all he responded with.

I laughed again. Every new reaction I got never failed to humor me. "It seems you know who I am," I more stated the question than asked.

He slowly nodded and said, "But that's impossible. You're...you're..."

My laugh cut him off. I shrugged and said, "I know."

"Then how the hell are you here?"

My smiled returned. "You don't know the whole story, no one but me and few others do. All you need to know is that the rumors of it not being an accident are true."

I didn't expect to see fear in his eyes, he was like me, I knew what to expect. Others cowered in fear when they found out but all he did was cock his head to the side and ask, "How'd you pull it off?"

"Maybe one day I'll tell you," is I all responded with. The time for our meeting was ticking down. I had the cameras only short circuited for fifteen minutes so it wouldn't be too suspicious to report on. I got back to my original point and told him, "but for right now, we need to talk about how you can be of use to me to achieve what we both want."

He didn't seem to like that I referred to him as a tool but I couldn't care. He was a pawn I needed in my plan, I'm sure he understood that. I could see it in his eyes that he did, but it didn't mean he liked being on the other side. He did, however, like the offer I had given him.

"So," he clarified, "I help you do whatever you want, and in return I don't have to go to therapy?"

"I could do that," I said, shrugging, "or we could all go home."

He fell silent at this, not expecting my answer. More confusion swam in his eyes as he asked, "Home?" I nodded and he thought it over. He looked back to me after a short moment asking, "Like the real world? I won't be locked up in this shithole anymore?"

"You've only been here a day."

"One too many," he mumbled, arms crossing over his chest.

I laughed again but I nodded at his previous question. "What you're helping me with," I told him, "everyone who wants what we want will get what they want: freedom."

"That's the goal?" Jared asked.

I nodded in response as he went over the information. My goal in the end was freedom for every patient that felt like they were fine and didn't want to change. And for those who didn't want to comply and were to fight against me....well, they would end up like-

"I'll do it," Jared's voice cut through my thoughts. My eyes, who had wandered during my thoughts, snapped back to where he sat. I saw the flames of malice burning his eyes again, making me smirk. "What do I gotta do?"

My smirk widened and I told him, "I don't know why anyone would want to stand in my way, but there are some people who don't share the same mindset as us. They're a threat to my plan if they find out."

"Who is it?"

My mind grew dark just thinking of him. He made my blood boil, he got on my nerves. "Louis," I spat the name out with venom. I could see the humor and understanding in Jared's eyes. "The little brat can't keep his nose out of everyone's business. He's always watching."

"Something to do with his auras?" Jared asked.

I nodded, an irritated sigh escaping me. "He notices when things are off; he notices everything. Those damn auras give him an advantage against me." I ran a hand through my hair. Just talking about him riled me up. "He's skeptical around me, he knows something isn't right. I'm lucky he doesn't what exactly."

"Do you need me to get rid of him?" Jared asked, a hint of anticipation in his voice. The upswing of his tone alerted me of his eagerness. It amused me.

"No," I replied honestly, "I don't need another death here. Yet." I chuckled as I saw him deflate in disappointment when I said no but then straighten up when I said yet. "I just need him out of my way, he's not dangerous yet since he doesn't know anything."

"But you want to make sure he doesn't find out?"

I nodded. "Correct, that's why I need him distracted."

Jared paused for a moment, asking after a short thought, "Can't that Harry kid do that?"

Thinking back to the boy, Jared wasn't wrong. I nodded and said, "That's true. However, having him paired with a college student isn't going to distract Louis the whole time. He isn't with him all day."

"So you want me throw him off his track when he isn't around?"

I nodded. "You have your 'blessing' as you put it, use it to you advantage as he does with his auras. He may tell Harry things, I overheard them during their first meeting. I don't need a duo going after me."

"So the end game is for Louis to be so distracted, he won't be able to focus on you or everything like he usually does?"

I nodded again. A small smile formed on my lips. I told him, "That's not it. While in the process of achieving our goal, I don't need anyone's attention on me. I want all the attention on him."

Jared looked confused. "Distracting him will get the attention on him?" he asked.

Another laugh escaped me. Jared looked more confused at my reaction. "You don't know Louis, do you?" I asked and he shook his head. My grin grew. "Louis has a tendency to be violent when provoked."

Jared's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You want me to provoke him into getting violent?"

"Yes," I answered, "A patient acting out takes the attention here. While he'll be the talk of the hospital, being frustrated will throw him off his aura game. Plus, when patients turn violent, do you know where they end up?"

"Section C."

"Exactly. He'll put himself out of my way by acting out and being transferred to section C," I replied.

Jared thought it over. He shrugged and said, "Seems reasonable and thought out. That just leaves Harry. What'll happen to him when Louis is transferred to section C?"

My smile turned sinister as I folded my hands in front of me. "I want the attention to be on Louis for a long time so it gives me time to prepare the final plans. I also want Louis to be out of my way permanently. That means being in section C for a long time."

I felt bad for Harry, truly. He was another pawn in my game and he wouldn't last to see the outcome of it. Then again, I didn't feel bad. I didn't know how to.

"Poor Harry will have been taken care of by Louis," I told him, "Louis killing Harry when he snaps will land him in section C."

Jared laughed a little, not expecting my answer. "That's messed up," he admitted. I wouldn't say he was wrong. Did we care? We both knew the answer. He smirked to me then, telling me, "but I like it. Takes care of two in one shot."

I smirked back. "That's the point. So, are you in?"

At those words, I saw those flames burn in his eyes once more. They never left the whole conversation, but they did die down at certain parts. I could see the excitement itching in him, his fingers fidgeting on the chair. He smiled brightly at me. "I'm all game."


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been 48754387 years but I told myself I wasn’t updating until I planned the WHOLE story out, and I did! I got so busy with school with midterms I couldn’t write on the weekends like I plan to. Here’s to hoping the second half of the semester isn’t too crazy. Enjoy!

**Harry’s POV**

I am currently sitting in a patient appointment with Dr. Roy. The patient is Jared.

This is his first appointment with Dr. Roy since he arrived a few days ago. I was honored with sitting in and observing it. I had two others before he was brought in. During those appointments, I was calm and took many notes. I learned a lot with talking and dealing with certain patients. I even got to offer some ideas when Dr. Roy brought me into the conversation.

Then Jared was brought in. My whole demeanor changed.

I immediately tensed up and closed in. I didn’t greet him with a smile as I did for the other patients. I didn’t focus on the conversation for scholar reasons, but for signs of threat. I didn’t engage in the discussion like I had before. It may seem unfair to treat him, a patient, different from the others, but he gave off a bad vibe.

And I couldn’t ignore the fact Louis, of everyone, had felt a little unease when talking about Jared. Whatever a black aura meant, it wasn’t good news. I was simply putting a guard up for the time being. It would stay up until I figured Jared out more.

Right now, Dr. Roy and I were gathering more history on Jared. His files had transferred from the last institution he was at but Dr. Roy told me he always likes to hear the story from the patient themselves. He explained it helps give a look at the patient if examined carefully.

Jared had repeated the same story he had told me a few days ago in the group circle. That was all I had heard of Jared’s past as I hadn’t been his partner since. He was with Louis yesterday and from what I could tell as I talked to the girl with three personalities, it didn’t go smoothly.

Jared’s little finger was twitching like it always did when he got “excited” and I could see in Louis’ posture he was annoyed. He wasn’t mad; I’ve never seen Louis express emotion other than annoyance or the unease I barely got a glimpse at.

Neither of them lashed out at each other but I could gather that whatever Jared was telling Louis, it was to get a rise out of him. He was purposely trying to rile him up. It didn’t work, Louis was just annoyed. This in turn, seemed to annoy Jared. He seemed to be used to getting what he wanted.

Sitting here, hearing the story for a second time and remembering his and Louis’ interaction, was when I decided my guard would stay up. I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable around Jared if we was looking to exploit weaknesses.

“And what happened when you returned from your suspension?”

Dr. Roy’s question ripped me from my thoughts and I refocused on the appointment. This was new information I was going to hear. I remember Jared telling me in disappoint that we were reaching the “good part” when the group circle session ended. It seemed I would hear it after all.

“What was a 16 year old supposed to do when he’s suspended from school for two weeks?” Jared’s voice sang out as he leaned back in his chair. “Definitely not his homework,” he added with a laugh.

His laugh was the same when I first heard it: void of any emotion. It ran chills down my spine. It wasn’t normal.

“Well,” he sighed, “during those two weeks, I thought about what would happen when I returned. I was sure that kid would do something, but I wasn’t sure what.”

“Did you think of any possibilities?” Dr. Roy asked as he jotted down notes.

“Many,” Jared answered. “One was that he would cower away from me and never speak another word to me. Another was that he moved to another school because he was so embarrassed. I also thought maybe he would be dumb enough to try and get revenge.”

My stomach sunk at the last option. Had I been the kid, I probably would’ve done the first option.

Jared looked over to me, a smile intact. “What do you think he did, trainee?”

It was a nickname Jared had decided to give me during the beginning of this meeting. I could tell he was messing with me while trying to get some sort of response from me but I didn’t humor him with one.

“The first,” was all I replied with.

He shook his head and looked to Dr. Roy. He told him, “You gotta teach trainee over here that the world isn’t as nice as he hopes it is.”

Dr. Roy ignored him as he raised an eyebrow to him. “What option did he pick?” He asked him.

Jared proceeded to shake his head and responded, “He tried to get revenge.”

My stomach dropped. This story could only end one way- ugly. The fact that Jared said he “tried” wasn’t a promising sign either.

Dr. Roy asked him, “Would you care to elaborate on the event?”

Jared grinned fully, “I would love to.”

I don’t know how it was possible, but stomach dropped again. I felt my hands get clammy, I felt my skin crawl, and I felt goosebumps explode across my body. He seemed too relaxed for someone who was about to explain a real-life event where he probably beat someone up, _again_.

He stuffed his hands in his jumpsuit’s pockets and let out a big sigh. “Where do I start?” He asked aloud, putting on a thinking face. His humor with the situation didn’t help ease my worry. “I guess I can start where it was after school. During the school hours, they didn’t bother with me. I thought they had been smart. That is, until after school I realized how stupid they were.”

My heart was beating fast, I could hear it echoing in my ears. Jared was staring at the ceiling as he told the story, no emotion written on his face.

“It was right when the bell rung so there was an audience, which I’m sure him and his friends wanted,” he continued. He looked from the ceiling to me, adding, “I don’t think he wanted an audience for when I beat his ass though.”

Dread fled through me. The first image I had of the kid from his first story re-entered my mind. I shut my eyes, trying to get rid of it. I heard Jared laugh at my reaction and say, “That’s what the audience looked like.”

I slowly my eyes to lock gazes with him. He was wearing a small smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He continued his story, “I let him have the first hit. I let him think he was winning. The crowd cheered him on. Soon, his two friends joined in. The crowd cheered even more.”

The thought of anyone cheering to someone getting beat up made my stomach twist. It wasn’t right. My heart hurt a bit for him but immediately stopped when he continued his story. “That’s when I felt angry,” he told me. “It was like the past. I would be beaten up on by those three, they would get cheered on.”

His hands exited his pockets and I saw his hands clench around the chair arms. His left pinky was twitching again. “They always cheered them on,” he spat out, “but the moment I stand up for myself, the cheering stopped. They felt bad for him.”

He flexed his fingers and for the first time, I saw the scars that lined his knuckles. They had to have been ripped open many times for the scars he had to be present. The thought of how many people he fought crossed my mind.

“It annoyed me, yes,” he continued. “It made me mad, upset. That’s when I snapped again.”

I could already see the scene in my head before he began to explain it. “He went to kick me in the face again but I grabbed his foot. I was on the ground, face bloody and covered in dirt. Everyone went silent when I caught his foot. Pure silence. Just like always.

“That’s when I flipped him onto his back. I took out one of his friend’s feet from him as well. I quickly stood up and punched the other kid across the face. He was out after that,” he told me.

He yawned, as if the story was suddenly boring to him. “I then kicked the one friend in the side a couple times. I proceeded to slam his head in the ground, knocking him out too. That left the guy that started it all.”

He was checking out his nails and I continued to check out his fingers. The scars didn’t stop there. They continued onto his hands and up his arms up to the sleeves of his jumpsuit. I looked up to meet his eyes as he told me, “I continuously punched him in the face until his resembled mine- bloody and dirty.”

The image flashed in my mind, the scene developing in slow motion. My thoughts wandered to where the school security was and why no one was interfering.

“I got off him when he was barely conscious. I wasn’t going to give him the easy way out of the pain by falling unconscious,” he shook his head. “Oh no, he was going to feel all the pain I had felt for years in that moment.

“Everyone was still silent when I got off him. They all stared at me, with horror on their face. I knew then again I should’ve felt some bit of remorse with what I did, whether it be fear of what would happen to me or them, but none of that came,” he concluded.

Dr. Roy’s voice suddenly broke in the story, “This is another time you noticed your ‘blessing’?”

Jared nodded with a smile. He told him, “I had a feeling from the first fight that I had that power. I knew I had something special. This second fight confirmed it.”

“If you had the chance to redo the event, would there be anything you’d change?” Dr. Roy asked him. It was an interesting question and I warily looked over to Jared, awaiting his answer.

He seemed to be giving it a lot of thought and seemed to finally settle on an answer when he smiled. It was bone-chilling. He looked to me with the smile. He told me, “I would make it so much worse for him.”

The sentence alone was chilling and gave my mind many possible scenarios he meant; however, he felt the need to elaborate. “I would’ve grabbed him by his hair and dragged him to the wall of the school. I would’ve slammed his head into the wall. I would’ve rolled in the glory of hearing his nose break, _again_ , just after it had finished healing,” he said.

He cracked his knuckles, my eyes once again being drawn to the scars. “I would’ve thrown him to the ground then and beat him senseless like I did,” he added. “I might also have slammed his head into the ground a couple times. I would’ve done anything that would’ve left him on the brink of death. Anything to leave him in such suffering pain that he remembers me after every nightmare he has because nothing will scare him more than _me_.”

There was silence after that. The only noise was Dr. Roy writing in his notepad. Besides that, I sat in horror as my eyes slowly traveled back up to meet his. They were still trained on me and like when I first saw him, I felt trapped in his gaze. I felt afraid again, like I was being pulled into an area I wouldn’t return from.

Dr. Roy’s voice suddenly broke through the silence, drawing both of our gazes to him. “And you don’t find anything wrong with what you just said?”

Jared’s smile turned into the signature sinister smirk he wore on the first day. He chuckled slightly, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Silence developed again as Dr. Roy wrote down more notes. My eyes were glued to the notepad. I didn’t dare to look back over to Jared. The sooner the appointment ended, the sooner I’d feel safe. I silently prayed I would never be left alone with him or make him mad to the point he’d want to leave me on the brink of death.

“Well,” Dr. Roy concluded as he set the notepad down, “that concludes our appointment Jared. Thank you for cooperating with me. The other psychiatrists have all said you are cooperative with them as well so we’re appreciative of that.”

My eyes flickered to him to see him grin big. I could tell it was fake before he even said, “All to get better, right doc?”

Dr. Roy didn’t honor that with a response. Instead he flipped to the next empty page in his notepad and wrote down the next patient’s name- Louis.

Jared leaned over to see it. He flopped back in his chair and his head swiveled to me. He nodded to the notepad, winking, “I bet you’re real happy to see aura boy, aren’t ya, trainee?”

I just stared back at him, no response given. He didn’t need one because he laughed at his own joke. Dr. Roy finished writing the basics down and told Jared, “The guards are going to take you to take your medication. It’ll be routine that you take them after every session.”

Dr. Roy hit a button on his desk that alerted the security to come in. The door swung open and they entered. “Whatever you say, doc,” Jared responded as he was helped up and out of the doorway.

As soon as he exited the room, I could feel the tension being lifted off my shoulders. I felt like I could breathe. I looked over to Dr. Roy who was now standing. He said, “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom before Louis’ appointment. Tell them they can bring him in.”

He disappeared into a door to the far right of his office, which I presumed to be a small, private bathroom. I stood, to go tell the guards to bring Louis is when I heard Jared’s voice sing out, “Oh, good morning aura boy. Trainee is waiting for you.”

There was no response from Louis. I heard a small chuckle, which I guessed was from Jared. I heard shuffling of feet then an “oof”. There was silence that followed it. For some reason, my heart began to beat faster.

“My bad,” Jared’s voice broke the silence. It was dripping in sarcasm. Again, there was no response from Louis.

“No response?” Jared’s voice was more distant as the shuffling of feet sounded again. I heard the teasing tone in his voice, but there also was a hidden threat. “Are you a mute now?”

My eyes flickered to the door way, the shuffling of the feet getting closer to my door. I could only hear those feet moving, Jared must’ve stopped at the door with the guards. He called out, “Or are you afraid of losing your temper and lashing out on me like you have done before?”

The shuffling of feet suddenly stopped. It was quiet besides the noise of a struggle. My feet moved before my brain registered the movement. I found myself out in the hall, right behind Louis.

He was being restrained by his two guards, who were holding him tightly by the forearms. He was facing Jared, who stood on the other side of the hall. His guards were holding him back while they tried to find the key to the medicine room.

Louis didn’t look like he was ready to pounce or attack Jared. He was watching him with a hard gaze. He seemed more annoyed than anything. A typical Louis response.

My eyes went back to Jared, to see his left pinky twitching again. He had his sinister smirk on his lips again. “Did I strike a nerve, aura boy?” He asked, a laugh mixed in.

The guards held on to Louis tighter. It confused me. Louis hadn’t reacted. He still watched Jared with the same bored expression, annoyance slipping through. The only movement he would have made to make them react that way would be turning to face Jared.

Or did it have to do with what Jared said?

_“Or are you afraid of losing your temper and lashing out on me like you have done before?”_

Had Louis lashed out at someone in Amador before? Or did he have a violent past which contributed to him being sent to Amador? Were the guards taking precaution measures?

Jared’s laugh rang out in my ears, breaking me from my thoughts. My eyes snapped to him as his smirk widened on his face. He asked Louis, “Don’t want history repeating itself, now do we?”

There it was.

It was small, barely noticeable. Had I not looked to Louis right after and known how he doesn’t react much already, I would’ve missed it.

It was the slightest movement, the slightest reaction. But it was a reaction.

Besides the annoyance rolling off him in bigger waves, his body reacted. His right hand, the fingers started to curl. They were beginning to clench together.

As soon as it had started, he stopped it.

It was there, a reaction. And it made my heart miss a beat.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse into Louis' past and some troubling discoveries ???

Soon after that incident in the hall, Jared was led into the medicine room and out of sight. It was dead silent in the hall, Louis watching the area where Jared last stood. There was an unspoken tension rising around him.

One of the guards holding him looked back to where I stood. He asked, “Is Dr. Roy ready for Louis?”

I just nodded and the guy told Louis to turn around. It took Louis an extra second to comply as he continued to watch where Jared once stood. He turned with the tug of the guard and the three of them turned to face me.

There I could see the small crack of emotion of Louis’ face. It was the first time I had seen him openly share any emotion.

His usual annoyance was there but it was accompanied by another feeling. Agitation was written across his features ever so slightly. His gaze was harder than usual, his eyes not empty like they usually were. When we locked eyes, I could feel the nerves I first had when I met him come back. I felt uneasy.

He was led past me and into Dr. Roy’s office. I stood outside for an extra second as I looked back to where Jared stood before he left the hall. His words came rushing back: “ _Or are you afraid of losing your temper and lashing out on me like you have done before?”_ and _“Don’t want history repeating itself, now do we?”_

What had Jared meant by that? Did Louis reveal something from his past to him during group circle? Had Louis reacted out violently before when provoked?

The answers to those scenarios sent chills through me. I shook them from my mind as I re-entered Dr. Roy’s office.

Louis was sitting where Jared had sat, the guards were on either side of the door, and my seat was left unoccupied. Dr. Roy was back behind his desk and picking up his notepad. He noticed my entrance and sent me a smile, “Perfect. Now we can start the appointment.”

The guards took the hint and left the room, the door shutting behind them. The chill in the room was eminent, as was the tension surrounding Louis. I had to give it to him though, he had covered up any traces of emotion he had let slip since he walked by me. If I hadn’t witnessed the hallway, I would’ve guessed today was nothing more than a typical day for Louis.

So, when Dr. Roy started off with asking Louis as he did with every patient, “How are you today?” I knew Louis was going to lie.

He replied with no emotion in his voice, “Like every other day- fine.”

“Did you feel anything today?”

“No.” Louis’ response was curt.

The two made eye contact shortly after and Dr. Roy stopped writing notes. He asked Louis, “Are you sure?”

Louis didn’t reply right away. Seconds ticked by as they stared each other down. It seemed as if Louis was also agitated with Dr. Roy. That confused me as this was the first interaction he’s had with him today.

“I’m sure,” Louis finally replied, “but shouldn’t you know that, Dr. Roy?”

I watched as Dr. Roy got confused. He set his notepad down, along with his pen. He clasped his hands together as he leaned his elbows on his desk. “Why would you assume that?” He asked Louis as he watched him.

“It’s been three years since you’ve asked me that question,” Louis replied. He narrowed his eyes slowly at Dr. Roy.

I noticed Dr. Roy’s hands twitch the slightest. Looking back to Louis, I could tell he was reading his aura. He added, “We agreed three years ago to never ask that question again as we both know the answer to that question.”

Dr. Roy looked away from Louis and down to his notepad. He said with a slight smile, “Three years is a long time. Can’t blame me for slipping once, can you?”

Louis tilted his head as he regarded Dr. Roy. His eyes were sweeping across him. I felt the tension around Louis get a little thicker and I believe Dr. Roy could feel it too. He seemed to get a bit more nervous as he flexed his fingers. Why was he nervous?

“I guess I can’t,” Louis responded.

Dr. Roy immediately smiled. “Great,” he responded, “and I mainly asked because you had this, excuse my choice of words but, ‘aura’ around you that made you seem agitated.”

I could feel the tension around Louis turn into a lockdown. A lockdown as in an emotional self-check. Any hint of agitation that would’ve been left was gone, along with any trace of annoyance. He tilted his head to the opposite side as he told Dr. Roy, “Agitation? Doc, we agreed the answer to that question was that emotions are never present.”

“But they could be,” Dr. Roy responded, raising an eyebrow to Louis.

The two began another stare down. Dr. Roy’s choice of tone with his response slightly resembled a push to make a decision; he seemed determined. I looked to Louis who had his shield back up. I couldn’t read him.

“No,” was all Louis responded with.

“Listen, Louis,” Dr. Roy sighed, “I know they failed before but-”

“I said no,” Louis interrupted. His statement wasn’t spoken harshly, but it had a tone that indicated Louis wasn’t changing his position on whatever they were talking about. It spiked curiosity in me. What had failed? Was it a treatment method? Why was Louis so against it?

Dr. Roy held his hands up. “Okay, okay,” he responded. “I just want you to know there is another option. Just because one failed doesn’t mean they’ll all fail.”

Louis didn’t respond this time as he itched under his nose with his pointer finger. He ran his hand through the slight scruff he had. “That’s what you said the first time we tried it,” Louis replied, voice deadpan.

Dr. Roy frowned in response as he picked up his notepad. “I know,” he said. I could hear the upset in his tone. “It was the first time it hadn’t worked. I just don’t want you to think everything else will fail because one thing has.”

Louis looked a little troubled by his words and I felt my heart tug a little in my chest. I couldn’t read the emotion radiating off him other than that the comment threw him off slightly.

Louis said he doesn’t experience emotions. I’ve seen the annoyance, curiosity, and agitation. Now I was seeing slight trouble. Did he rarely experience emotions? Was it apart of his disorder?

Louis spoke, voice raspy, “Too bad I always fail everything.” He dragged his gaze from the floor to Dr. Roy and then finally to me.

I tried to make anything I could from his eyes, his face, but he had his shield back up and held firm. All I had was that haunting line. It had to go deeper into his past than what Dr. Roy was referring to. The sad look Dr. Roy was giving Louis confirmed my thought.

“Well,” I spoke up for the first time the whole meeting, “I know you never fail with your auras.”

Dr. Roy looked over to me as Louis tilted his head at me. What I said was genuine. I couldn’t see the auras he saw in me, but I knew the feelings I had. He had guessed my feelings correct the first day we met.

Louis responded, “Yeah, I guess right on floating colors that aren’t real. I don’t fail at being crazy, but I fail at being normal.”

The words stabbed me in the heart. It was worse to notice no emotion on his face or in his words. I hadn’t meant for my statement to stir up such a statement.

I shook my head. “No,” I responded.

Louis raised an eyebrow at me. “No?”

“No,” I repeated.

Our eyes met, him noticing the little repetition thing he usually did with me. I saw a little smirk form on his lips. He asked, a hint of teasing in his voice now, “No what?”

“Sure, you’re not ‘normal’ as the textbook defines it, but I remember someone telling me something I didn’t know and that couldn’t be found in my textbooks,” I told him. His eyes hardened as he recognized I was talking about him referring to black auras.

“Over the next few days I began to look at this hospital in that perspective,” I continued. I noticed both Louis and Dr. Roy were very interested in my comments. I swallowed, nerves building up as I refocused on Louis. “I could follow the textbook from cover to cover. I could go by what only those authors told me. I could interpret what I see here only by what the textbook says it is.

“Or I could look at in my own perspective with that knowledge in mind. I could make my own decisions with applying that information to the situation at hand. I could be independent and make my own inferences. I could be me,” I finished.

Dr. Roy seemed intrigued by my word choice but was smiling at the end. Louis wore the same expression as he stared at me. He asked slowly, “And how does that apply to me being crazy?”

“Because that’s what the book says you are,” I told him. “The thing is, you’re not your disorder. I could label you as bipolar or antisocial, but at the end of the day, you’re still you. The disorder is a part of you, yes, but that doesn’t mean it defines you.”

My heart was beating fast at the end of my little speech. I felt nervous, excited to tell him something he had encouraged me to do after his line of failing everything, and overall I felt honest. His eyes were trained on me, his eyes piercing me just like before.

What color would my aura be? Purple? Yellow? Blue? Would that just be the outer aura? What was my inner layer? These questions rushed through my mind as I watched him watch me. He didn’t say anything though.

I added, “You don’t fail at being Louis.”

I saw Dr. Roy smile as he wrote something on his notepad. Louis kept watching me for a while, his smirk slowly turning into a small smile. I couldn’t read the emotion behind it but his words left me shook, “And you don’t fail at staying true to your aura.”

I could feel the heat rushing to my face as the words settled in. I felt a small smile curling onto my lips, genuine and warm. The questions of what my aura was raced through my mind along with the hope of his smile being similar to mine in meaning.

“That was beautifully stated, Harry,” Dr. Roy broke the silence as he looked up to me from his notepad. I looked over to him, offering a smile in response. “And I’m sure Louis is correct on his assumption of your aura.”

Louis laughed slightly and it made my smile falter. We both looked over to him and I saw his signature, empty smirk back on his lips. He was now looking to Dr. Roy, whatever emotion he may have been portraying suddenly gone.

“Yes, Louis?” Dr. Roy asked.

“Nothing,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “I just find it funny you agree with me on Harry being true to his aura.”

“Please elaborate,” Dr. Roy responded while leaning back in his own chair.

“Nothing really,” Louis shrugged, “I just thought I told you last time we met to not be so silver next meeting.”

Dr. Roy raised an eyebrow at that. “Silver? As in my aura?”

Louis just offered a smile in response. My mind raced back to the first day I was at Amador. I recalled Louis telling Dr. Roy to “not be so silver next time”. I felt nervous as I remembered asking Louis that same day what it meant but he didn’t answer me.

“I’m not sure what that means Louis,” Dr. Roy added after Louis didn’t respond, “but I can tell you that I’m true to my aura, whatever color it is, as well.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at that and tilted his head, watching Dr. Roy. I suddenly felt uneasy. Louis hadn’t responded before out of a joke or regarding Dr. Roy’s comment in a positive light.

He shook his head slightly, telling him, “I sure hope not.”

The room fell quiet at the comment. Louis kept watching Dr. Roy and Dr. Roy looked uneasy this time. He looked nervous and looked around the room and at me a couple times.

It made chills travel throughout my body. What did Louis mean by that? What was Dr. Roy’s aura? Was it silver? And what did silver mean?

Dr. Roy asked just that, “What does a silver aura mean?”

Louis smirked again, regarding him in the same way he regarded me that first day we met. He gave him the same response too, “Wouldn’t you like to know?"


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Child Abuse Mention

_“Wouldn’t you like to know?”_

That one question. It was only one question, but it held many answers.

It shielded Louis. It kept me or Dr. Roy from connecting with him. He knew it too, that’s why he used it. He would open enough to let us see inside but the question kept us at arm length.

Knowing I wouldn’t get an answer from him, I tried to connect Dr. Roy’s actions since my first time meeting him up until now to a silver aura; however, I always came up blank. What the hell did a silver aura mean?

Glancing over to Louis, watching as he set a piece of computer paper down in front of him, I came to terms with the fact the answer only resided with him. If I wanted the definition of a silver aura I would have to drag it out of him.

After his appointment with Dr. Roy and I, the patients had lunch. Louis had been silent throughout the meal, poking around his mashed potatoes and tearing the chicken strips apart. He had thrown his guard back up, just like he always did, but he seemed more protected than usual.

His eyes hadn’t scanned the cafeteria like they usually did; he didn’t comment on anyone’s auras like he usually did. He sat in silence as he ate, flickering his eyes once in a great while to where Dr. Roy sat with Jared.

Now, we were at the group activity for the day. Just like before, Louis stuck to painting. He went through the same process as he grabbed a paintbrush, scanning the room for an aura to paint.

I watched him, observing how his eyes went from their piercing gaze to a hawk’s eye in a split second. They darted around the room, searching for a prey. They jolted to a stop just behind my left shoulder.

Turning, I saw the same girl from before, her hair in a braid instead of a ponytail today. Unlike last time, she wasn’t humming with a grin on her face and bouncing about. This time, she had what people call a “resting bitch” face. Her hands were clenching and unclenching as her eyes scanned the room.

Her eyes came to where we were sitting and she locked eyes with Louis, but he didn’t flinch away from her glare. I looked between the two, seeing the invisible tension crackling in the air. Louis’ left eye twitched the slightest as her nostrils flared with an angry huff.

Feeling uneasy, I watched as she finally broke the eye contact and looked down to her own paper. She grabbed a yellow marker from a pile she had and began to draw haphazardly across it. Wincing as the juice from the marker bubbled from the tip due to the pressure she was applying, I turned my attention back to Louis.

His gaze was still firmly trained on the girl, but his paintbrush was moving, swirling a huge amount of black paint on it. My stomach dropped as I watched him plop the blob on the paper and cover the entire page in black paint.

My mind reeled back to what he had told me about black auras. Auras didn’t belong to a single disorder, but to personalities. He had said all the patients in section C had them, giving the hint that black auras were violent. He had also informed me that the girl had three different personalities, one of them being black.

When he finished painting the whole paper, he set his paintbrush in the water cup. I watched as the black paint slowly bled off the brush and into the water. The streams of black grew thicker and thicker until it turned the clear water black. It sent a chill up my spine, spiking nerves.

Looking back to Louis, I saw his piercing stare was on me. My heart skipped a beat just like it always did when I was under that gaze. Again, I felt like an open book, at his beck and call to be read. But this time, I wasn’t caught off guard, I knew what he was reading. He could read my nerves and fear.

He didn’t comment this time, however. He just sat back in his chair, looking around the room again as he reached for another piece of paper.

Deciding to break the silence, I asked him, “It seems that girl’s black aura decided to be present today, didn’t it?”

In mid reach for the paper, his eyes snapped back to mine. There was still no emotion on his face, no smirk, no anything. I watched out of the corner of my eye as his hand slowly wrapped around another piece of paper.

Leaning forward back in his chair all the while keeping our gazes locked, he set the new piece of paper next to the freshly painted one. He titled his head to one side the slightest bit, asking, “Did it?”

“It did.”

It was small, but it happened. If I hadn’t figured Louis out a little bit, I would’ve never noticed it. The right side of his mouth twitched up the smallest bit into his infamous smirk. He recognized the little repetitive game we did.

And if I was crazy enough, I would also say I saw a bit of that guard he put up today come down. Not a lot, but just a fraction.

Louis broke the eye contact, letting his gaze stray over to the girl. I snuck a glance over my shoulder, noticing she was drawing with another marker now, the other one all smashed up and tossed to the side. She was repeating the same process with the new one, this time green juice oozing out.

“Word is,” Louis spoke, drawing my attention back to him, “a guard got to rough trying to detain her this morning. It kicked her mind into defense mode and out came her black aura.”

“I’m guessing in her past she was handled roughly?”

Louis nodded as his eyes wandered to the black painting he had made. His voice sounded distant as he told me, “She was abused by her father as a child.”

My heart dropped and I closed my eyes for a moment. Behind my closed eyelids flashed a picture of that girl. It was a copy of when I had first seen her, happy and energetic. Suddenly the picture transformed into the girl I saw a few seconds ago. However, now, there were bruises and scars that covered her body.

“From her beating,” Louis continued, “two new personalities were created.”

Opening my eyes, I spared another glance at her. She had ruined the green marker, using a black one now. She was using her three personalities as the markers, combining them all across the page. She had even colored off the page and onto the table.

“Her original personality is the yellow green one,” Louis informed me. Looking back to him, he elaborated, “The two main aspects of a yellow green aura are creativity and heartfelt compassion. They express their communication through those two aspects.”

I felt sick inside. Let alone how wrong and disgusting it was to beat a child, the thought that the father had beaten a black aura into a child who had heartfelt compassion as a main aspect, made it worse.

“She likes coloring with markers,” Louis added. “It was her favorite thing to do as a child.”

I wondered if she had revealed this to him during the group circle meetings. Analyzing Louis as he spoke, I could sense the spark of annoyance he usually wore amplifying each detail he revealed. It spiked a bit of curiosity in me. I too was angry about the story, but this was the first story I had sensed any sort of reaction from him when he would tell me some other patient’s history.

“One day,” he continued, “she drew on her walls with them. She had ran out of coloring books and random paper to color in. She figured it was fine because the markers said washable. Oh boy, was she wrong.”

The drop in his voice made my heart drop along with it. He locked eyes with me, saying, “Her father found the drawings that night. He was livid. He hit her in response. It was the first domino to fall to cause the rest to fall.”

My eyes squeezed shut in response, already dreading the worst. He continued on, “After that, he would hit her with any small mess she made. Spilt her milk? Smack.” He hit the table for an added effect, making me jump and open my eyes, his gaze immediately trapping me.

“Marker on the table? Smack.” Another hit on the table. “Dirty clothes on the floor? Smack.” Another hit. “Crumbs on the floor? Smack.” Another hit. “Standing up for herself? Smack.” The last hit on the table was the loudest, echoing in my ears.

I had winced with every hit, his piercing gaze not helping. As I turned to see the girl behind me, I noticed something I hadn’t before. Every time her marker went off the paper and onto the table, she winced the slightest bit, as if anticipating the hit.

“Every little slip up,” Louis’ voice came from behind me, “he punished her for. The slips would turn into vulgar words when she was old enough to understand them, the words turned into punches when she was old enough to take them, and soon enough the punches turned into objects used as weapons.”

Looking back to Louis, I saw his gaze was still locked on me. He tilted his head to the other side, telling me, “The pale yellow personality was the first to show up. Whenever she would catch herself in trouble, she would try to talk her way out of it or through the punishment. A few main traits for a pale yellow aura are optimism and positivity.”

A short flash of the girl playing with her hair and humming flashed in my mind. It turned to the girl in the room now when Louis added on, “But when that didn’t protect her, the black aura came out. All it took was one more hit.”

I couldn’t imagine what had triggered the black aura to jump out. I didn’t have to as Louis told me, “She was just 17 at the time. She had left out her marker case from art class the night before. Her father confronted her and whipped each marker at her. She thought that was the only punishment she was going to get, but that pale yellow personality was naïve. He came back with his belt and beat her that night with it.”

My heart was pounding, waiting for the part where the black aura came out. Louis drummed his fingers against the table, finally moving his gaze from me to the black paper he painted. He concluded the story, “After that, the black personality came out. She purposefully left all her markers on the floor where he threw them except the black one. She waited for him to come check if she had cleaned it up.

“When he came in that night, he was furious to see she hadn’t touched any of it. He went to where she was pretending to be asleep on her bed and grabbed her by the hair and yanked her out of the bed. He yelled he would whip her again and again after each marker she picked up. But when he turned to go get his belt, she jumped on his back and tackled him to the ground.”

I felt the palms of my hands getting sweaty again, heart pounding. I didn’t want to know what she did to him to land herself in Amador but at the same time I wanted to know. Louis informed me anyways, telling me, “When she was able to pin him down, she pulled out the black marker, uncapped it, and told him he didn’t clean up his mess. She proceeded to shove the marker in both of his eye sockets.”

In response, my hand flew over my eyes. I couldn’t imagine the pain that would’ve produced or the damage that came from it. Peeking through my fingers I saw Louis move the black paper to the side, finishing up, “A few minutes after she had attacked him, she snapped back to her regular personality, the black personality determining it safe. She didn’t remember the attack and when the cops came, she was immediately arrested with the black marker juice and his blood on her hands.”

Removing my hand from my face, I stole a glance at her. My eyes shot down to her hands as she set down the black marker. All over her hands where juices from each marker. As if sensing my gaze, her eyes shot from the paper to mine. Inside her eyes was a depth of hatred that never ended.

Pulling my gaze from hers and back to Louis, I asked, “And? What happened to her dad?”

Flaring his nostrils in annoyance, he told me, “He went blind but he was never charged for abuse.”

“ _What?_ ”

Louis shrugged. He took his paintbrush from the water and dried it off. He said, “They had evidence she attacked him but not the other way around. When they were questioning her, she couldn’t remember a lot with switching between personalities, you know, like the books tell you, so she was deemed mentally unstable and has been here ever since.”

“The…the physical evidence, the bruises wasn’t enough?” I asked in disbelief.

Louis shook his head as he moved the blank paper in front of him. “She couldn’t tell them where they were from.”

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled to myself.

Louis shrugged and said, “That’s alright. He got what he deserved.”

Those words sent a chill down my spine. I warily watched him, noting his voice was void of any emotion. I didn’t bother mentioning that revenge wasn’t justice.

He added on as another thought, “But he deserved to rot in jail too.”

I wouldn’t have used the word “rot”, but I nodded in agreement. I believed in the justice system to serve justice, but it unfortunately failed her. And according to Louis, justice had been served in another form.

Still, the man didn’t deserve to walk free, even though he technically didn’t with her causing him to go blind.

Louis opened his mouth to say something else but his jaw snapped shut, his head whipping to the door of the classroom. My gaze followed his, feeling the sudden increase of tension, and noticed someone had entered the room.

Jared walked inside, his smirk radiating his cockiness. I could tell he knew we were watching him. He flopped down at an empty table across the room, dragging his gaze up to meet Louis’. His smirk turned into a grin as he winked.

Again, just like in the hallway, it was so tiny, and if I hadn’t known Louis, I would’ve never noticed it. His grip on his paintbrush tightened ever so slightly. And then, like lightning, his paintbrush moved into the cup of black paint, swirling it onto the brush.

He plopped a huge blob on the page and hastily spread it across the page. Once the black paint covered the whole page, he threw the paintbrush back into the water, grabbing a new one. It wasn’t like the one he had just used, it was smaller and thinner.

He waved his free hand over the painting, trying to dry the paint as quick as possible. He turned his attention to an empty cup, pouring a bit of black paint in with white paint. He used his finger, however, to stir the paint up, mixing the two. Slowly but surely, silver formed from the mixture.

He wiped the excess paint off on his jumpsuit, using his tainted finger to test the black painting. He seemed to deem it dry enough, sticking his new paintbrush into the silver paint, proceeding to precisely outline the edges in silver.

When he set the paintbrush down in the water cup with the other paintbrush, I noticed his gaze was still focused on Jared. He didn’t once glance down at his painting to check it. Looking it over, I noticed the outline of the paper was painted silver like a frame, the inside black.

Following Louis’ gaze to where Jared sat, I figured he had painted Jared’s aura. I glanced down back at the painting, my eyes lingering on the silver. Dr. Roy rang in the back of my mind.

I looked back up to Louis, asking, “Jared’s aura?”

“Jared’s aura.”

My lips twitched up a bit, watching as he transferred his attention to me. I dragged his gaze down with mine, making us both look at the silver outline. He knew the question before I asked, flickering up to meet my gaze that shifted to him. “What does a silver aura mean?”

His gaze pierced me just like the first day, just like it always did. Tilting his head to the side, his empty smirk made its appearance. This time, however, I could sense his playfulness seep through. Just like he knew my question, I knew the answer before he responded.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I know, it's been a year. I want to apologize for not updating. I told myself I wouldn't update unless I planned out the whole story, which I have, but then I fell off the face of the Earth.
> 
> College just became a wreck for that spring semester with soccer and classes, then summer was jammed with those two and work added in. This past fall semester and spring semester are just as busy (go physics!!!!) BUT I am trying my best to write whenever I can.
> 
> So, NO, I have not given up on this story, I'm just so goddamn busy with life at the moment. YES, I plan on finishing it, but just keep in mind updates will be hella slow probably.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with, it means a lot! I promise there are still plenty of twists and turns left that none of you are expecting...
> 
> All the love,  
> Lindsay :)


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